The Redemption of Severus Snape
by Finn'sFolly
Summary: I toyed w/the idea that if Lily could love Snape-albeit in a solely friendly way-then so could someone else in a romantic way. I tried to work out what sort of personality could deal with Snape, and what sort of woman he'd be attracted too. This isn't a sappy love story. There is a progression from tolerance, to understanding, to love, with emphasis on Snape's redemptive cycle.
1. Chapter 1

SHORT&SWEET A/N: This is a work in progress. Some of the chapters may seem hurried; that's b/c they're essentially still in draft form. I know they're some canon-compliancy issues that need to be worked out too. The early chapters focus a lot on getting to know the OC. Have patience, Snape will get a lot more attention later on.

I don't usually share unfinished writing, but I feel that I need feedback w/this one b/c I don't typically write such lengthy fan-fiction.

Anything marked with * has an annotation at the end of the page.

LONG-WINDED A/N: JKR seemed to view Snape's demise as a kind of redemption; his death a kind of peace. I saw it more as closure for Harry, who finally discovered why Snape was such a jerk to him. Harry would have been too young to fully understand Snape's motivations had he learned them earlier in the series.

As for Snape, he absolutely needed forgiveness for what he'd done. After all, he was partially responsible for the Potters' deaths, which is what I see as the greatest difference between him and James Potter. Both were bullies, and both had cruel streaks, but James would never have gone so far as to put someone's life in danger. Snape, although not a murderer, was indirectly responsible for the deaths of two people, and he wouldn't have cared at all about it had Lily Potter not been involved.

I saw his actions over the course of the HP series as penance enough. The more I thought about it, the less I was able to see his death as a peaceful respite. He spent his life wanting to be loved and, in the end, had to spend his afterlife with a woman who had rejected him in favor of another man. (I'm not bashing Lily here, just stating a fact.) How much of a torment would it be to watch the woman he loved spending the rest of eternity not with him, but with the man she loved? He may as well be forever stuck in a Hogwarts time-capsule, endlessly reliving his schooldays. I think for Snape to be fully redeemed as a human being, and not just be forgiven for his actions, he would have to love and be loved in return. He would also need to come to terms with his prejudice against Harry. That train of thought led to this story-hope you like it.

Note to JKR: Seven books worth of penance and character development and you kill him at the end. Geez, throw the poor guy a bone, would you? :-)

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just having some fun with her characters. No profit is being made from this story.

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**Prologue:**

"What a beautiful sunny morning," thought a thin red-haired man as he walked with all the other office workers on their way to begin the workday. He was drawn away from his happy private reverie by a lovely, well-dressed, young girl who was kneeling on the sidewalk next to her car, changing a flat tire. He estimated the girl to be close in age with his oldest son. She was already placing the lug nuts onto the new tire. The flat one was sitting behind her. He was about to offer his assistance when he noticed that one of the lug nuts had rolled away from her on the uneven ground. She reached for it without turning her head. The man was just about to bend down to pick it up for her when he noticed a faint blue light, barely visible in the bright sunshine, surround the lug nut, and it rolled back up the pavement into her hand. He was taken aback by what he saw as he'd not sensed anything from this girl. She seemed to be like every other Muggle he'd ever met.

The girl stood and placed the tire iron she had been using in her car's trunk. She turned back to pick up the flat tire when the man spoke, "I'll get that for you." She smiled pleasantly and thanked him as he dropped the tire into the trunk. She opened a white plastic container and pulled out a couple of small wet towelettes for his hands, and then did the same for herself. She chatted amiably with him, all small talk. "Good thing it's a sunny day. It's miserable having to change a tire in the rain."

The man replied, "Yes, I know what you mean, but at least you weren't caught on a country lane. There's nothing worse than to have to kneel in mud with torrents of rain pouring down on you."

"Oh, yes, that would have been horrid," said the girl. She thanked him again, and he tipped his hat and watched her enter her vehicle and drive off. He made a mental note of the vehicle's license plate and make. _New model, dark-green Jaguar, camel-colored interior… _

**Chapter 1**

All of Hogwarts' professors were gathered in Dumbledore's office at his request; some stood, some sat, some chatted, and others, like Severus Snape, were silent. All were waiting for Dumbledore to tell them what was so urgent. He was currently speaking quietly with Minerva McGonagall on the far side of his office. McGonagall listened intently, as if to instruction, then nodded her head. Dumbledore immediately turned to face the little congregation. "Thank you all for coming. This will only take a moment of your time. It has been brought to my attention that a certain young lady has been overlooked by us, and is in need of proper magical instruction."

"That's not possible, Albus. Magical children never go unnoticed by Hogwarts. The Magical Quill detects them at birth," said Filius Flitwick from his cozy overstuffed chair.

"She's a special case, Filius. Apparently her abilities are only just beginning to appear."

"How old is this girl?" asked Pomona Sprout from an identical chair next to Flitwick.

"Twenty-four," replied Dumbledore cheerily, as if there was nothing at all odd about her age. He was answered by a chorus of low groans from the professors.

"Is Hogwarts to play host to imbeciles now, Headmaster?" asked Snape, who was followed up by Flitwick. "She's far too old to attend Hogwarts, Albus. Isn't there an alternative?"

"Technically she will not be a Hogwarts student. I have no intention of sorting her or placing her any classes."

"Well, how do you expect us to teach her anything?" asked Sprout, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.

Dumbledore chose not to answer Sprout directly, opting instead to address everyone. "In light of the young lady's unusual circumstances, I must ask all of you to provide individual tuition." This statement was followed by a louder chorus of groans and some of the professors began to pace in irritation. "I know it is an imposition on all of you, but I ask this as a personal favor to me. This girl is near and dear to my heart. I know that you will all find her as delightful and charming as I do. Thank you."

The small congregation rose and left, grumbling all the way. Snape stayed behind, waiting for everyone to leave before he spoke. "Are you certain that this is a good idea, Headmaster?"

"Absolutely, Severus."

Snape didn't receive the answer he wanted, and so chose another tactic. "Latent magical abilities tend not to develop beyond a modest degree. Are you certain that it's in the girl's best interest to be exposed to the many talented young wizards and witches at Hogwarts?"

"Possibly not, but it will certainly be in our best interests," replied Dumbledore.

"How so, Headmaster?"

"Severus, this girl has managed to keep herself secret from us, and I suspect she's done it for a considerable amount of time. That ability alone may prove very useful to us in the future. Minerva and I are on our way to meet the young lady. We shan't be gone more than a couple of hours-"

"Meet her?" said Snape. "Did you not just say that the girl is dear to you?"

"Well, I have no doubt that she will be." Dumbledore grinned, his eyes dancing. His attire and hair changed in an instant. He now wore a brown tweed suit complete with matching cap and leather patches on his elbows. His hair and beard were short and neatly trimmed. McGonagall drew nearer and Snape could see that she was now wearing a high-necked, white, linen blouse; a long, red, tartan skirt; a red tartan bonnet; and a short, grey, tweed blazer. They looked every bit the well-to-do, conservative, country couple. "How do we look, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, obviously very proud of his fashion sense.

"Stunning, Headmaster," Snape replied flatly.

###

Lindsay sat at her piano with a pencil tucked behind her ear. She was frowning a little as her fingers moved over the piano keys, attempting to work out the kinks in the melody she'd just written. She abruptly stopped playing and listened to what sounded like a powerful howling gust of wind. She rose to look out a heavily curtained window. Lindsay kept the curtains drawn to protect the musical instruments in the room, many of which were antique, from damaging sunlight.

She peered out the window to witness a violent rainstorm; the worst she'd ever seen in the ten years she'd lived in England. The sky was black. The rain came down so ferociously that it almost completely obscured her vision. She was startled by a loud crash, and couldn't tell at first from where the sound had come. Finally, she ran to the front door, opened it, and peered into the torrential rain.

Two vaguely visible figures emerged from something large and bright yellow. There was a low stone wall that bordered her pebbled driveway. The yellow thing was directly on top of where the wall should be. _"It must be a car,"_ thought Lindsay. _"Someone must have driven it into the wall." _She ran out the door toward the two figures. "Hello! Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine, dearie," answered a woman with a Scottish accent, "but I'm not so sure the same can said of your garden wall."

"Don't worry about that. It can be fixed," said Lindsay as she hooked her arm through the woman's. The accompanying gentleman was holding the Scottish woman's other arm. "Just come with me into the house, and we'll get you sorted out."

They entered into a large vestibule, and from there passed through large doors into an even larger front hall. They were all drenched to the skin. "Have a seat here," said Lindsay as she escorted them to a long, dark, wooden bench with scarlet red upholstery. "Do either of you have a headache, sore neck, any aches or pains?"

"No, dearie, we're fine."

"I should still call for an ambulance."

"That won't be necessary," said the gentleman.

"You may feel fine now," said Lindsay as she walked across the hall to a high table with an old telephone sitting atop it, "but you'll likely feel very differently when your adrenaline has died down." She continued to speak with her back turned to them as she tapped the telephone, trying to get it to work. "You're most likely fine, as you say, but adrenaline can mask some serious injuries. Most are easily treatable, but only if we get you to hospital in a reasonable amount of time. Ugh, the phone's dead. I'll try the cordless one. I doubt it'll work, but it's worth a try." She glanced at the couple. The gentleman was now standing and both were bone dry. The recognition was barely perceptible, but both Dumbledore and McGonagall were sure the girl had seen the change in them, and was trying to convince herself otherwise. "It's just here in my study." Lindsay sloshed through an open doorway and emerged seconds later. "No luck there either." She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened as she saw the man pull an odd-looking stick from his sleeve and point it at her. She was instantly dry. "What's going on here?"

"My name is Albus Dumbledore and this is Minerva McGonagall. We are professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We've come here to invite you to our school and to teach you how to use your gift."

_"Okay," _said Lindsay slowly. "Look, I don't know what you people are up to, but you can clearly see that this place is in disrepair. The valuable items that may once have occupied the rooms here are all gone. And if, by chance, it's me you're interested in, I am well versed in several forms of martial arts, and I will have no problem breaking your necks." That last statement made McGonagall harrumph in indignation.

"We don't want to harm you," said Dumbledore, "only help you."

"Thank you for the concern, Mr. Dumbledore," said Lindsay stiffly, "but I don't need help from anyone. Now if you would follow me to my car, I'll drive you to hospital myself."

Dumbledore said nothing as he turned to a closed door behind him. "That door is locked, sir," said Lindsay curtly. Dumbledore waved his hand over the doorknob and the door swung open. He motioned for McGonagall to enter the room ahead of him. She was taken aback by the wreckage within. The walls were scorched. The scant amount of furniture was split in half, or otherwise broken, and scorched. The white marble mantel was essentially a pile of rubble. The windows were mired in dirt and full of cracks; thick tape had been spread over them. In the middle of it all, on the floor directly in front of the fireplace, sat the melted remains of a cordless phone. McGonagall and Dumbledore moved farther into the room, and Lindsay was forced to follow them.

"You did this," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes shimmering. Lindsay just stared at him. "You had an angry disagreement with a former friend, and this was the result."

Lindsay's face blanched. "Rebecca sent you here?"

"No," answered Dumbledore.

"Then who? No one else knows about the fight."

"You know," replied Dumbledore.

"I'm not playing any more games with you, Mr. Dumbledore. Please leave." Lindsay's voice remained controlled, but her tone was icy.

"You had a disagreement over the ownership of this property. It had belonged to Rebecca's uncle, but he left it to you instead of her, which enraged her. She spoke to you via that," Dumbledore pointed to the melted phone. "She threatened you and made you angry. That anger erupted into the devastation we see here. You melted that while you were still holding it. It burnt your ear."

"How did you…I never told anyone…?

"Look out your window. You'll see that the storm has passed and there is no yellow car, or any damage to your property."

Lindsay rubbed a clear spot on the dirty windowpane and peered outside. Everything was as Dumbledore said. She turned back to see that their clothes and hair had changed completely. She shook her head in disbelief. "No…no, it can't be. This isn't real."

McGonagall told Lindsay to watch as she removed her wand from its pocket, and pointed it at a broken down settee. Lindsay watched incredulously as it turned into a hippopotamus. "Go on, touch it," said McGonagall. Lindsay ran her trembling hand over the animal, and it felt warm and life-like. McGonagall flicked her wand again, and the hippo turned back into the broken settee.

"I think this would be a good time for a nice hot cup of tea, don't you?" said Dumbledore.

###

"My family was killed in a car crash when I was fourteen. It started not long after that." Lindsay sat at the head of her dining room table. Dumbledore sat to her right and McGonagall to her left. They each had a cup of tea in front of them. A tray covered in biscuits and sweets sat between them. Dumbledore had already tried one of each.

"And it has been getting steadily stronger since then," said Dumbledore.

"Yes."

"I assure you that it wasn't the tragic event that triggered your abilities, but I have no doubt that the emotional distress you felt intensified its initial manifestation, which evidently caused you even greater distress. Latent magical abilities are rare, but not unheard of, and they would have appeared regardless of the events in your life." Dumbledore dunked a biscuit into his tea and popped it into his mouth. "You keep a very nice home, quite neat and clean."

"Thank you," said Lindsay, confused by the sudden change of subject. "I'm in the middle of restoring this place. I'm about two-thirds finished."

"Yet you allow that one room to remain broken and dirty, might I ask why?"

"I keep it as a reminder to myself …of what I've done and what I could do."

McGonagall clasped her hand over Lindsay's. "We can help you understand and control your magic. If you come with us to Hogwarts, you'll meet many people just like yourself."

"I don't know. I-I have work…"

"You admit that your magic is getting stronger, controlling it is getting more difficult. You fear that one day you might do to a person what you did to that room. I assure you, your anxiety is well-founded."

_"Albus!"_

Lindsay blanched again, and her hand trembled under McGonagall's. "Okay, alright, I'll do it."

###

Lindsay saw them out, and they strolled leisurely across the stony driveway. "It's remarkable, Albus. I sensed no magic at all in the girl."

"Nor did I, Minerva. She is uniquely gifted, but I'm very concerned about her state of mind. She has a tremendous fear of her abilities, and I must admit that I'm at a loss as to how to deal with the matter."

"I don't think frightening her as you did was the best choice."

"That was unfortunate, but necessary. We would never have convinced her to come with us otherwise. I think the best course of action would be to treat her as any other first year student and deal with any issues as they arise."

"I agree," said McGonagall. "I'll personally see about getting her settled in. A quick trip to Diagon Alley and she'll be set."

"Thank you, Minerva, but do me this one favor. Don't take her to Ollivander's."

"She must have a wand, Albus."

"I prefer to take care of that myself." In mid-stride, the two figures disappeared into thin air, followed quickly by an audible crack.


	2. Chapter 2

The professors who were to be Lindsay's instructors were gathered in Dumbledore's office waiting for her to arrive. Minerva McGonagall had gone to fetch her and was due back at any moment. Everyone was sitting and chatting and drinking tea, except for Snape, who stood stock still at some distance from everyone else looking sour and put-upon. At last, they heard McGonagall's voice as she entered the room with Lindsay in tow. The headmaster moved to greet them while the rest of the faculty stood and formed an informal line.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore, it's so good to see you again."

Snape eyed her as she chatted casually with the headmaster. His eyes slowly moved over every inch of her, taking in every detail. She had long, dark-red hair, fair skin, and large, vivid blue eyes. She was large in other places too, specifically on either side of her chest. She had a lean build, slim round hips, and a small waist. She wore a light-blue silk blouse with no collar and a low neckline. He surmised that her choice of dress was designed to make a favorable impression on her male instructors. She wore fitted gray trousers that outlined her long slim legs. She was very tall and wore low-heeled black dress boots. Dumbledore escorted her over to introduce her to her teachers, and Snape had to raise his eyes a little to look at her.

Remus Lupin, out of the corner of his eye, noticed something odd about Snape's posture, and turned his head to look at him. He was troubled by the force of Snape's gaze and the rigidity of his body. His concern deepened as an oddly indignant expression crept into Snape's features. It was as if Snape was bracing himself against something. The girl appeared not to notice or, at least, not be bothered by it. She smiled warmly at Snape as Dumbledore introduced him to her. Snape flinched, almost imperceptively, when she extended her hand, but accepted it. His cheeks reddened and he dropped his gaze when she laid her other hand over the back of his. The girl clearly saw and understood his reaction, and softly patted his hand before releasing it. Lupin managed to quell the laugh that desperately wanted to erupt from him, but couldn't prevent a mischievous smile from taking over his features. As Snape brought his eyes back up, he noticed Lupin observing him. Snape's eyes narrowed into a hate-filled glare, and his mouth curled into a sneer. Lupin winked at him.

The girl was next introduced to Flitwick. She modestly placed her left hand over the front of her blouse as she bent down onto one knee to speak to him, and placed it there again as she rose to greet Lupin. Each of her professors were greeted with the same warm smile and extended hand. Snape watched her carefully as she was introduced to Rubeus Hagrid, curious to see her reaction to the half-giant.

"Professor Hagrid," she said as she extended her hand to him. Her bearing gave no indication that Hagrid appeared unusual to her. Judging by her demeanor alone, one would think Hagrid's height and proportions were commonplace.

"Jus' Hagrid."

"Okay, Hagrid, it is. You're the one I've been most anxious to meet. I'm very fond of animals, though I admit that I've had little experience with them. But, I promise you, I'm not afraid of hard work or getting my hands dirty." Hagrid beamed with pride and immediately invited her tea, which she accepted. "Yes, I'd very much like that."

Lupin leaned toward Snape and whispered, "Pretty, isn't she?"

Snape glared at him. "To some, perhaps."

"Now that everyone's been met, I think it's time to show you where you'll be staying," said McGonagall. Lindsay followed her out of the headmaster's office toward Gryffindor Tower. "Now remember to pay attention to the staircases; they have a tendency to move." Lindsay's eyes were wide with disbelief. Staircases moved by themselves, ghosts greeted her, and the most bizarre thing of all, the portraits not only moved, but spoke. McGonagall spoke to a noisy aggressive portrait, which she identified as Sir Cadogan. The portrait then moved to let them pass. "This is the Gryffindor common room. That staircase leads to the boys and girls dormitories. Due to your age, I've decided it would be best for you to have more private quarters." McGonagall looked about and muttered, "Hmph, all boys," then spotted two girls sitting together and talking. "Oh, Miss Granger, come here please…and you too Miss Weasley. Follow me girls."

They passed through a large oak door to another hallway. "At the end of this hallway are my quarters, should you need me. You'll be staying in here." Lindsay followed McGonagall into a cozy little sitting room. A long couch flanked by two well-stuffed chairs surrounded a table that sat in front of a small fireplace. There was a good deal of space behind the couch, and plenty of room for Lindsay's painting supplies, which were already laid out for her. Her easel stood with a blank canvas upon it. Her guitar and violin were still in their cases and leaned against the wall next to a spacious oak desk. At the far end of the room was kitchenette, next to which was a closed door. "Through there is a washroom and your bedroom." McGonagall turned to look for the two girls. She spied them standing uneasily in the hallway and invited them in. "Come in girls. I'll introduce you properly in just a moment. Now, Miss Gray, students normally have a curfew, but because of your age I've chosen not impose one on you. That freedom will be revoked, however, should you prove yourself to be irresponsible. You may wander the castle at will, but I must ask that you do not walk the grounds after dark; this is for your own safety. Also, no student may leave Hogwarts' grounds unless escorted by a teacher; this is also for your own safety. Do you understand everything so far?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, make sure you're well acquainted with the school's handbook." She waved the two girls closer. "This is Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. They will show you about the castle and help you get settled in. Do you have any questions?"

"No, ma'am," answered Lindsay.

"Excellent, I'll be leaving you in their capable hands then." Professor McGonagall wasn't gone a full ten seconds when two red-heads appeared in Lindsay's doorway.

"May we come in?" they said in unison.

"Yes, of course," said Lindsay as she walked toward them to introduce herself. "I'm Lindsay."

"You'll be sorry for that," said Ginny.

Fred took Lindsay's hand and shook it vigorously. "I'm Fred." As Fred released her hand, George grabbed it and did precisely the same thing. "And I'm George."

"We're twins," they said in unison.

"Really? I would never have guessed. Come in, make yourselves at home." Ginny winced.

"Quite nice," said Fred looking about the room.

"Just you, is it?" asked George.

"Yes, it's just me," answered Lindsay.

A three-leaved picture frame sat open on her desk. Ginny noticed it, and picked it up to see three generations of an uncommonly handsome family. "Is this your family?"

"They were, they're all gone now," answered Lindsay. Ginny blushed and apologized as she set the pictures back down. "Oh, it's alright. It was a long time ago. Amazing how quickly time passes." Lindsay picked the photos up and said, "I always keep them with me, but I never set them out or I end up staring at them for hours."

She lowered her hands and opened the hinged leaves for everyone to see. "Both sets of my grandparents are in the middle frame. I was about six when that photo was taken, and they were already well into their eighties." She pointed to the man in the front. He was seated in a plain chair as was the woman, presumably his wife, who was next to him. The other couple was standing behind them. All of them looked strong and youthful for their ages, as if they had remained athletic throughout their lives. "You can't tell because his hair is white here, but he's the one that gave me my red hair. Everyone else in my family was blond. His name was Henry, but most people called him Big Red."

Lindsay strongly resembled her grandfather. They both had the same vivid blue eyes and the same pleasantly mischievous expression. "He's sitting down in almost all of the pictures I have of him because it was the only way to fit him in with everyone else. He was so tall, he just towered over everyone. It still seems strange to see him that way since he was always so active. He was never still even at that age."

She then pointed to the photograph on the right. "That's me at fourteen with my sister, who was twenty-two, and my brother, who was twenty-four. This picture was taken just before we moved to England." All three were standing. Lindsay's brother stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders; her sister stood next to her. Her brother wore a well-tailored navy suit. Their sister wore a conservative burgundy dress, and Lindsay wore a light green dress, her long hair neatly braided. "My sister's name was Melody and my brother's was Noble. We called him Nob. He hated it. And, lastly, here are my parents with my sister and brother. This was taken before I was born. My mother was actually pregnant with me when this photo was taken, but she didn't know it. I was an unexpected gift." Lindsay smiled and folded the picture frame, placing in the desk's top drawer. Two more framed photos, one of an elderly woman and another of an elderly man, also sat on the desk. Lindsay placed them in the drawer on top of the other photos.

"So what happened to them?" asked Fred. Ginny elbowed him.

"Well, my grandparents all died of natural causes long before we moved out of the country. My parents and siblings died in a car accident. They were on their way to work and got broadsided by a drunk driver. I then went to live with a family friend. He died unexpectedly, and I wound up living with his mother. Sweet woman, quite aged, I was fond of her. She suffered terribly from rheumatism. She passed away right before I went to college."

"Where are you from originally?" said Hermione. "Your accent sounds a bit American."

"I'm from Baltimore, Maryland."

"I suppose it was a shock for you-to live in a different country, I mean," said Ginny.

"Not at all, I was accustomed to travel by a very young age. I can settle in anywhere."

"So they all worked at the same place," said George. "Is that typical for Muggles?"

"Typical for what?"

"Muggles," said Hermione. "That means non-magical people."

"Some people do; some people don't. They all played in a classical orchestra. My mother and sister played the violin. My father and brother played the viola."

"So musical talent runs in the family," said Fred as he opened Lindsay's violin case. George did the same with her guitar case. "Do you play in an orchestra too?"

"No, I'm not nearly good enough."

"No need to be modest with us," said George with a broad smile.

"Not modest, just truthful. I would describe my playing as above average, but their skills were prodigious. It took me years to learn to play well. They took to their instruments immediately."

"Do you play anything else?" asked Ginny.

"I also play piano. Guitar is my favorite instrument, but the violin is my best."

"Let's see…what else can we ask you?" said Fred.

"I'll help you out," said Lindsay. "I'm six feet tall. My favorite color is blue, light blue specifically. I like to sing. I took dance classes from age five to seventeen. At which time, I was told that I'm far too tall to be a dancer. I suspect that was my instructor's way of nicely telling me that I wasn't good enough to make dancing a career. I'm a Pisces and I talk a lot, sometimes too much. How's that?"

"Not bad," answered Fred as he moved to snoop around the kitchenette.

"You mentioned going to college?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, here it comes," said Fred.

Hermione ignored him. "What did you study?"

"I have degrees in music theory, art history, and medicine," answered Lindsay.

"You have a medical degree?" blurted Hermione excitedly.

"Careful there," said George. "Granger will be drooling in a minute."

"Did you study all that at the same time?" asked Ginny looking more than a little skeptical.

"Yes," answered Lindsay, who was accustomed to the question. "I have an eidetic memory. Most people call it a-"

"-photographic memory," blurted Hermione. "Sorry."

"It's okay," laughed Lindsay.

"Since your cupboards are completely barren, and we have no interest in letting Granger start talking about bookish things, George and I will be delighted to show you to the kitchen," said Fred as he offered Lindsay his arm, which she took.

"Not without us," warned Ginny. "You two aren't getting her into trouble on her first day."

"Honestly, Ginny, you're starting to sound like Mum," said George.

"So what brings you to Hogwarts?" asked Fred.

"Long story, I'll explain on the way to the kitchen."


	3. Chapter 3

Lindsay sat on a large overstuffed sofa in the common room, flanked by Fred and George. She had just been introduced to Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Neville was talking about his grandmother when Lindsay felt something poke her head. She turned to see a paper airplane floating in the air next to her.

"You'd better read that," said Hermione, but Lindsay was beaten to it by George.

"I bet it's from Snape," said Ron. "Likely a detention for being foreign."

"You're half right, Ron," said George. "It _is_ from Snape. Apparently Lindsay's first potions class is in fifteen minutes."

"It's just like him to give you your first lesson on a Saturday, only three hours after you've arrived," said Harry spitefully.

"I met him in the headmaster's office this morning," said Lindsay. "He seems a bit shy." The twins burst into laughter. "What's so funny?"

"'Seems a bit shy', she says," repeated Fred.

"'What's so funny', she says" repeated George.

"Snape," began Fred, "is a petty, nasty, wanker…"

"…with a particular hatred for Gryffindors," finished George. "He's commonly known as the Greasy Git and is the most hated teacher at Hogwarts."

"I had a teacher like that in middle school-huge woman. She had a metal yardstick that she'd hit the kids with. She was like a ninja with a thing," said Lindsay.

"Ninja?" said Ron.

"Later," replied Harry.

"I bet you were terrified of her," said Neville, who'd gone pale and was beginning to look ill.

"No, we got along just fine. I stayed out of her way, and she didn't skull me with her yardstick." Lindsay rose to change her clothes for what she anticipated to be a messy class. She slung a well-worn, olive-green, canvas messenger bag over her shoulder and left for the potions lab. She was escorted by the twins, who sang dirges all the way there. She was about to knock on the door when she heard a smooth male voice on the other side of it say, "Enter." Fred and George both gave her a thumbs-up as they silently backed away.

"Good to see you again, Professor," said Lindsay cheerily as she opened the door. Snape was skulking around a work table. "Your timing is impeccable." Lindsay was wearing the same warm smile she'd shown him earlier. Snape had steeled himself for her visit and was determined not to make such a colossal ass of himself twice in the same day. An array of herbs, some fresh, some dried, and some bottled, were arranged on a table behind him, along with a cauldron and other potions-making supplies.

"Sit," said Snape. She obeyed and looked up at him, calmly meeting his gaze. He couldn't stop a small flush of color from appearing in his cheeks. He held up the stalk of a dried plant with small pink flowers. "What is this?"

"Dittany," answered Lindsay.

"And this?" Snape held up another stalk, this time the flowers were large and white.

"White Dittany."

"Give me another name for it."

"False Dittany."

"And this one?" He held a stalk that had light purple flowers.

"Um…also False Dittany."

He held both stalks of False Dittany in front of her, very close to her face. So close that she leaned back slightly. "How do you know?"

"Their leaves are identical, and they both smell lemony."

He turned and placed all of the stalks on the table behind him, then turned back to her. "What is a bezoar?"

"It's a concretion most commonly found in the gastrointestinal organs of ruminant animals." The rapid-fire questioning continued for a full thirty minutes and covered a great portion of the textbook she'd been required to study. He then told her to take out her textbook and prepare the first potion using the ingredients on the table. All of the labels had been removed from the bottled herbs, and Lindsay had to smell them to identify them. She picked up a small brown bottle and un-stoppered it. She sniffed it, but couldn't identify it. "I don't know what this is." Snape arched an eyebrow and said nothing. "_Okay, _I'll just set it aside then."

She successfully chose the correct ingredients and began brewing the potion. Her textbook sat next to her and was turned to the correct page, but she never looked at it. Snape was puzzled, but remained silent. He slowly walked around her, studying her from every angle. She smelled faintly of gardenia. Her hair, which was tied back, was thick, wavy, and lustrous. It was an uncommon and fetching shade of dark red. His incessant pacing around her didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. She appeared relaxed and confident. Her eyes were downcast as she focused on her work. He thought it odd that her face showed no signs of consternation. Most new students look nervous and confused, and frequently check and re-check their textbooks.

He inspected her potion when it was done and said, "This is acceptable. Brew the second one." The contents of the cauldron disappeared with a silent flick of his wand, and Lindsay immediately set about brewing the next potion. Again, she brewed it correctly without looking at her textbook. He then had her brew a third with the same results. "This lesson is over. You may go."

###

Seven worried faces were gathered in front of the common room's fireplace, all waiting for Lindsay's return. "Is everything alright?" asked Lindsay.

"You were gone for hours," blurted Hermione.

"We thought maybe he poisoned you," said Neville.

Lindsay began to laugh, but stopped abruptly when Neville's expression didn't change. "Teachers don't poison their students, Neville."

"You don't know Snape," said Harry matter-of-factly. His eyes looked heavy and half-closed as he stared into the flickering flames, his arms folded across his chest. He appeared to have only a mild interest in the conversation.

Lindsay wasn't sure how to take their reactions, so she chose to change the subject. "There was a creepy, blobbish, man-thing floating around the hallway singing a very rude song. It disappeared through a wall. Anybody know what it is?"

"That would be Peeves," said Hermione. "He's a poltergeist, best to stay away from him if you can."

Lindsay looked relieved. "Oh, good, I thought I was hallucinating."

"There's a lot you have to get used to," said Harry through a yawn.

"Well…tell us what happened," urged Ginny.

"That was the most grueling class I've ever had. I'm exhausted. First he asked me a bunch of questions, and then I had to brew three potions-"

"_Three?" _ shouted Hermione.

"Git," mumbled the twins.

"There weren't any labels on the bottled herbs. I had to identify them by smell. I felt like an idiot."

"I hope he doesn't do that to me," said Neville, swallowing hard with a noticeable tremor developing in his hands. "What if he makes me drink something…?"

"Neville," said Ginny as she placed a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder. "Calm down. Think happy thoughts."

"I hope you have an awfully good sense of smell," said Harry.

"The photographic memory really helps," answered Lindsay.

"What does that have to do with smelling things?" asked Ron.

"Herbal scents are described in detail in the potions textbook, Ronald," said Hermione. "If you opened it once in a while, you'd know that."

"I think I did badly. He said the potions were acceptable, but that's it. He said nothing else the whole time I was there, except to tell me to leave."

"Snape only talks when you've made mistakes, so you must've done well," said Hermione. "I've never heard him tell anyone that a potion was acceptable. That probably means you did very, very well."

"Or very, very bad," said Ron.

"Ignore him," said Hermione.

###

Exhausted from her first class, Lindsay chose to make her own dinner and have it in her chambers. She retired early and awoke just before sunrise, as was her habit. Normally she would've gone for a run, but she hadn't mapped out a route on the grounds yet. She contented herself with exercises that could be performed in her sitting room: push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and hand-stands. She showered and dressed and was about to make herself some breakfast when she heard a knock at her door. The Weasley twins burst in without hesitation. "Going to Hogsmeade?" asked Fred.

"Going where?"

"I told you she wouldn't know what it was," said George.

"Hogsmeade is a village," said Fred. "We go there on weekends."

"We'd love to show you around," said George.

"Uh, yeah sure, I'd love to," said Lindsay. "I was just about to make breakfast-"

"Don't do that," said the twins. "Come to the Great Hall."

Fred and George described Hogsmeade in detail as they escorted Lindsay to the Great Hall. She suspected that the majority of what they said wasn't true, but it was certainly entertaining. "That's the Great Hall there," said Fred. He pointed to an enormous stone doorway, flanked by two huge, open, wooden doors. Students were lazily coming and going.

Lindsay greeted Professor McGonagall who had just emerged from between the doors. "Oh, Miss Gray, I wanted to speak with you. Go ahead boys, Miss Gray will be along shortly. I forgot to tell you that this is a Hogsmeade weekend."

"Yes, the twins were telling me. They said they'd show me the village."

"Oh, good," said McGonagall. "Students walk to Hogsmeade, so make sure you dress warmly."

"I'll do that."

"One last this, Miss Gray," said McGonagall. Her expression was earnest as she placed a hand on Lindsay's arm. "And this is very important. Don't eat or drink anything the twins offer you."

"Er…okay."

"Remember," said McGonagall as she walked on.

The twins stood and waved when Lindsay entered the Great Hall. She sat down between them clearly in awe of the room's immensity. "So what's the protocol? Is there a buffet, or waiters, or what?" The twins began to laugh hysterically.

"The house-elves send everything up from the kitchens," said Hermione from across the table. "Most things are already here as you can see." Hermione pointed to the plates of toast, and sausages, and other breakfast foods lining the center of the table. "If you'd like something else, you can ask for it, but you must be polite. Watch me. May I have a bowl of porridge with a bit of cinnamon and apple, please?" Within seconds a deep, golden bowl of steaming porridge appeared in front of Hermione. "Now you try."

"May I have a cheese omelet and a cup of dark roasted coffee, please?" Lindsay laughed in disbelief when it appeared before her. It was one of the most amazing things she'd ever seen, yet everyone else at the table seemed totally indifferent. "So the house elves just sent this from the kitchen? I feel like I'm in a dream."

Fred and George both took a forkful of Lindsay's omelet. "Nope, not dreaming," they said.

###

The twins insisted on stopping at Honeydukes first. There were so many kids in the shop that it was hard to get in the door. They entered in single file with Fred at the front and George at the back. Lindsay had her hand on Fred's shoulder to avoid being separated from him. George did the same with her. The few kids that tried to push between them were bounced off the twins like pinballs.

"You should get some chocolate frogs," said Fred.

"They'll be good starter sweets for you," said George.

"Starter sweets?" laughed Lindsay. "I've had candy before, guys."

"Not like these," said the twins.

Lindsay took off one her gloves, unbuttoned her coat, and fished around in her inside pocket. She retrieved a moderately sized baby-blue velvet pouch and handed it to George. "I'm not used to the money yet. Do you think there's enough to get something for all the Gryffindors? The first and second year kids must be feeling left out."

George felt the weight of the pouch and passed it to Fred, who peered in the bag. "Are you rich or something?"

"Hmm, what would be the easiest way to answer that? Um…yes."

Their shocked looks turned to enthusiastic grins. They turned quickly and pushed their way to the counter. "Make way…Coming through…Important business here."

Lindsay felt someone fall into her back and push her forward. "Sorry," said a familiar voice. She turned and greeted Neville Longbottom and began a conversation while waiting for the twins, who appeared to be buying far more than they needed. Some of the crowd began to thin out and Lindsay noticed something floating past her head. She thought someone was blowing bubbles, and she turned out to be partially correct. There was a little blond-haired boy laughing with two other boys. They were telling him to do it again. She watched as he popped a tiny gold nugget into his mouth. Seconds later a stream of yellow-green bubbles came floating out of his nose.

"Neville, is that kid blowing snot-bubbles?"

Neville laughed. "You've never had magical sweets, have you? Watch this." He popped what looked like a tiny red stick of dynamite into his mouth. Lindsay jumped backwards as jets of flame shot out of his ears.

"Did that hurt?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't actually feel good, but it doesn't hurt either."

"I'm not eating anything in here. Neville, we're supposed to grab a bite when we're done here. Is magical food weird too?"

"No, no, it's totally safe. As long as it isn't something Fred or George offers you, you'll be fine."

"Oh, that's such a relief. Thanks."

"Right, off to the Three Broomsticks," said Fred as he shoved the velvet pouch into Lindsay hand. Much to her surprise, it was more than half full. Fred and George were both carrying a large box under their arms.

"See you later, Neville," said Lindsay. "And don't eat too much of that stuff.

###

Lindsay thought the interior of the Three Broomsticks was quaint, and she very much liked the friendly bustling atmosphere. The twins introduced her to the very likeable Madam Rosemerta, who offered her some butterbeer.

"Does that have alcohol in it?" asked Lindsay.

"Just a very small amount," answered Rosemerta.

"I'll just have some tea then."

"As you like," said Rosemerta.

"What's the problem with alcohol?" asked George.

"It dulls the senses."

"Isn't that the point?" said Fred.

Lindsay smiled pleasantly. "For some I suppose, just not me. So are you going to show me what you bought?"

"I thought you'd never ask," said George as he plopped a large box on the table. To Lindsay's horror, they not only showed her all the different confections, but they demonstrated their effects as well. When Madame Rosemerta returned with their drinks, she grilled the twins about the amount of candy they had. She was sure they'd been dishonestly procured and was still a little suspicious even after Lindsay had vouched for Fred and George. They spent much more time at the Three Broomsticks than they had planned. The twins quickly learned that Lindsay was even more social than themselves. She met a number of students from the other three houses as well as some of the residents of Hogsmeade. Four men from the village bought drinks for her, which she graciously accepted but didn't drink. One of the men looked older than Dumbledore. Fred and George were thoroughly disgusted by him, but Lindsay didn't seem to mind. Her reaction to the old man was the same as her reaction to everyone else. She was friendly and chatty, but not encouraging of further advances.

A small crowd of people, both male and female, had formed around her. The old man was teaching her a drinking song, and it didn't take long for everyone to be singing it. Lindsay had a powerful voice and could be heard above everyone else. Normally the twins would have circulated more, but they felt that Lindsay needed bodyguards due to her naïve amiability, and had designated themselves for the job. They didn't like the way some of the male patrons were eyeing her, and they had forcibly moved two overly friendly Hufflepuff boys away from her. They decided it was time to leave when a burly rough-looking warlock began to get a little too familiar. He'd pulled a scratched and dented silver flask out of his pocket and was trying to get Lindsay to taste whatever was in it.

"No, thank you," said Lindsay. "It's very kind of you to share, but alcohol has a lot of empty calories and I'm watching my figure."

"Not to bother, I'll watch it for you," said the warlock and wrapped his arm around Lindsay's waist. She seemed entirely at ease with the man's forwardness, but kept her hand on his to prevent it from moving to anywhere other than her waist.

Fred whispered into George's ear. "We can take him."

"I think you might be too optimistic, Fred, but I'm game if you are."

"Sorry to spoil the fun," shouted Fred from directly behind Lindsay. "But we're late for a prior engagement." He grinned as he looked in the eyes of the burly warlock, but his bearing made it plain that he wasn't being sociable. The warlock was amused by the adolescent threat and laughed aloud.

Lindsay easily removed herself from the brawny man's arm. "Alright, gentlemen, let's keep it friendly." She placed a hand on Fred's arm. "Come along, Fred. We don't want to miss the fun." The twins backed away for several paces until they felt comfortable turning their backs on the warlock, who still appeared to be very amused by them. Lindsay showed no apprehension and simply walked away to collect their coats. The trio wrapped up for the cold and left.

"Right, we have one more stop," said Fred. "We need to go to Zonkos. We're out of dungbombs."

"I'm not sure I want to know what they are," said Lindsay.

"Dungbombs are the best," said George.

"They're not actual dung are they?"

"No, of course not," said George. "They just have the smell, but they do dirty your hands a bit."

"_Although_…that is a rather good idea," said Fred quietly with a quick look to George. The twinkles in their eyes made Lindsay uneasy.

There was a small alleyway between some of the buildings, and Lindsay noticed a dark hunched figure shuffling around some garbage bins. "I don't think I'm quite ready for a magical joke shop. Is it alright if I just wait here?"

The twins exchanged suspicious glances. "I suppose," said Fred slowly. "But stay right here, we don't want you to get lost."

"No problem."

"We won't be long," said George.

They looked back several times, and Lindsay had to wait for them to enter the shop before she could sneak away to talk to the vagrant in the alley. "Hello? Do you need help?" The figure turned out to be a man. He was so grimy that it was difficult to estimate his age. His clothes were tattered and covered in soot. He was extremely thin and bent almost in half. She thought that he would likely be close to her height if he was able to stand up straight. The smell of body-soil coming from him nearly took her breath away.

"Huh? Who's that?" The man's tone more than a little annoyed, and his voice sounded dark and gravelly.

"I'm nobody. I just thought you might need some help finding whatever it is you're looking for."

The man squinted at her. His blue eyes looked cloudy from cataracts. When he spoke again, his tone was much friendlier. "I was just looking for something to keep me warm. These old bones really feel the cold. It didn't bother me when I was young like you."

Lindsay looked back up the alley for the twins. She took everything out of the pockets of her knee-length, grey, wool coat and transferred it all to her trouser pockets. She left twenty galleons in the coat's front pocket, took it off, and offered it to the man. "This is very warm. You'll like it."

"I couldn't possibly," said the man.

"Please take it. I have another at home, besides the cold weather doesn't affect me at all." She held it for him as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. The odor coming from him was so overpowering that she had to turn her head to the side.

"That's right kind of you, young lady."

"Oh, it's nothing. Now you should get inside where it's warm. I'll ask my friends if there's somewhere we can take you. Oh, there they are." Lindsay heard the twins calling urgently for her. She turned to look back up the alley, and saw them skid to a stop where they'd left her only moments before. "I'm here!" shouted Lindsay, and the twins bolted down the alley after her.

"What are you doing in an alley?" asked Fred.

"And where's your coat?" asked George.

"I gave it to this gentleman…" Lindsay turned to introduce the twins, but the man was gone. "I swear to you there was an old man here."

"We can't leave you for a second," said Fred. "We'd better get back to Hogwarts before you freeze to death."

"You nearly made me drop the sweets," said George.


	4. Chapter 4

Lindsay was numb by the time they returned to the school. The twins had tried to cast a warming charm on her, but it didn't work. They were both mystified as they had no trouble casting the charm on each other. Lindsay was shivering uncontrollably as she passed by Professor McGonagall who, along with Mr. Filch, was counting the returning students.

"Where is your coat, Miss Gray?"

"I gave it to a beggar."

"You did _what_?"

"There are a lot of poor people in the world, Professor."

"There are a lot of foolish ones too, Miss Gray. Get inside and warm yourself. I'll be having a talk with you later."

Lindsay avoided the Gryffindor common room and took the staircase that lead directly to both hers and McGonagall's quarters. There was a huge furor in the common room as Fred and George began handing out sweets. After what she saw in Honeydukes, and what the twins showed her in the Three Broomsticks, Lindsay had no desire to witness what the kids would be willing to do to themselves. She wrapped herself in a blanket and had just sat down in front of the fire when Professor McGonagall entered. "Would you like a cup of tea, Professor?"

"No, thank you." Her tone was stern and her body posture matched. Lindsay braced herself for a tongue-lashing as McGonagall took a seat next to her. "I can't believe you just walked all the way from Hogsmeade without a coat. I'll be shocked if you don't end up with pneumonia. You could've been frostbitten. I expect that even a Muggle-trained physician would know about frostbite. Just what were you thinking, giving away your coat in the middle of January?"

"There was this poor old man in the alley. He was dressed in rags. I assume he's homeless-"

"Was he bent in half? Did he have cloudy blue eyes and smelled like a dung-heap?"

"You know him, Professor?"

"His name is Itzal Grace. He's a ne'er-do-well, and quite a shady character."

"Even people who make mistakes in life deserve a little charity," said Lindsay. "He's much older than me and the cold can do him more harm."

"Generosity is an admirable quality, Miss Gray, but gullibility is not. I assure you that the one person Itzal can safeguard is himself."

"I left twenty galleons in the coat pocket."

"Oh dear, he'll be drunk for a month. On second thought, I think I will have that cup of tea."

Lindsay rose and began bustling around her kitchenette. McGonagall watched her carefully, noting that she preferred to do everything manually despite the ability to use very simple magic. Lindsay piled some scones onto a plate and set it on a tray that held her tea set. "The twins escorted me to the kitchen. The house-elves are adorable and…enthusiastic. They gave me much more than I needed to fill the cabinets, but Ron Weasley ate most of it so I have to go back for a few things. That kid has an impressive appetite." Lindsay set the tray in front of McGonagall who picked up a scone. She looked at the tray and frowned slightly as she reached for a second scone.

"You said Fred and George Weasley helped you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Have a look at this scone."

It seemed innocent enough to Lindsay's eyes, except that it had a slightly purple-hued glittery look to it. "How weird, it looks a little shiny."

"Don't eat it," warned McGonagall. "Set it aside somewhere safe."

"Neville warned me too. What do the twins do, put laxatives in everything?"

"If only," said McGonagall as she examined the tea steaming in the teapot, the sugar bowl, and the milk sitting in the creamer. "Everything looks alright. You must be very careful. Inspect everything before you eat or drink it. If it looks unusual in any way get rid of it, or you could find yourself sneezing marbles or growing pink fur on your knees." Lindsay laughed at the thought. "You won't find it amusing if it happens to you; and if it does, take yourself to the hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey will take care of you."

"Can I ask you something, Professor?"

"Of course," said McGonagall as she stirred her tea. Her expression and tone of voice had warmed considerably.

"Some of the kids have been telling me horror stories about Professor Snape. I spent a few hours with him last night. He doesn't seem very sociable."

"Severus can be a bit…harsh, but he is a very competent teacher. As for his sociability, he manages to be civil with his colleagues. Otherwise, he's intensely private and has been since he was a schoolboy."

"You were one of his teachers?"

"I was. He was a very clever student, though a bit backward."

"So is there any truth to the rumors, or are the kids just trying to scare me?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed a little and the firmness returned to her voice. She was unsure if Lindsay was trying to garner favor with her, or was simply asking out of genuine concern for her own wellbeing. Since the Weasley twins seemed to have taken an interest in her, Minerva assumed that it was likely the latter. "I don't care for gossip, and I'll not criticize a colleague, Miss Gray. Obey school rules and you'll not run afoul of Severus or any of your other teachers."

"Understood, ma'am. I have one more question. It's about Professor Lupin. He looked unwell when I met him-"

"Remus has a chronic health condition, but I'll not disclose the nature of his illness."

"And I wouldn't ask, Professor. It would be crass of me to do so. I was just concerned."

"That's very considerate of you, Miss Gray." McGonagall patted Lindsay's hand. Her expression softened and warmth returned to her voice. "Remus has been sickly since he was a boy. It's a delicate subject for him." She sipped her tea a few times before speaking again. "I neglected to tell you this morning that you are technically a guest of Hogwarts, not a student. As such, you may eat your meals at the High Table; however, it's not a strict rule and you may eat with the students if you prefer." She set down her teacup and rose. "I must be going; I have some papers to grade. Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime, Professor, my door is always open."

Lindsay had just finished washing up when Hermione entered. "I was just going to spend a few hours in the library before dinner. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure, I finished all of my textbooks before I came to school. I could use some new reading material."

"Great! I know exactly what books you need to get you further along in your classes."

"I haven't really read much of the school handbook yet. Is it really that important? I thought I might just wing it."

"Oh, of course it is," answered Hermione, looking as if the question was bordering on offensive. "Professor McGonagall is a stickler for the rules, and Professor Snape is…worse. You should read _'Hogwarts: A History'_ too. It's really fascinating. I'll tell you about it on the way to the library."

The library was very quiet, except for the sound of a few quills scraping on parchment. There were only a handful of students in there, and most of them looked harassed like they were working on last-minute projects. A gaunt, prim-looking, older woman was keeping watch from behind a great oak desk. The woman shushed Lindsay when she tried to introduce herself. Hermione apologized for Lindsay, and dragged her to an unoccupied table that was out of the librarian's line of sight.

"That's Madam Pince," whispered Hermione. "She's very strict about enforcing library rules. You must be quiet and don't ever mark any of the books. She hates that. You stay here while I fetch a few things."

Lindsay was mystified as she watched books rise up from the tables next to her and put themselves away. The books already on the shelves moved aside to let the new ones in. She was sure that a few of them on the shelves behind her were having a hushed conversation. She began to wonder if Hermione had gotten lost when she reappeared carrying an enormous stack of books. The stack was so high that her face was totally obscured, only her bushy hair could be seen sticking out on either side of the book stack.

"Let me help you." Lindsay took a little more than half of the books. It wasn't until Hermione plopped the rest of the stack onto the able that Lindsay realized there was another, even larger, stack floating along behind Hermione. "You don't expect to be getting through all of these today, do you?"

"Well, we do have a few hours. Here are some good ones on potions. Sometimes Professor Snape likes to ask advanced questions just to stump us. Of course, I always know the answers, but most of the students don't, which makes him assign extra homework."

Lindsay picked up a book and began flipping through it. Hermione thought she was skimming through it, but she continued at the same pace even after Hermione had opened her own book. Lindsay set the book aside and reached for another.

"Did you actually read that?" asked Hermione.

"Sure did."

"I thought I could read fast."

"It's a skill," said Lindsay. "Anyone can learn it. Stop reading word by word, and start looking at blocks of words instead. The most important part is to shut off your internal voice, the one that you use to sound out words in your mind. It takes some practice, but once you can do that you'll read much faster and retain the information." Speed-reading techniques can take anywhere from weeks to months to learn, but Hermione was doing reasonably well within the first hour. She was undoubtedly spurred on by a strong intellectually competitive streak.

Hermione had brought four books pertaining to Potions, and Lindsay read every one. She was certain that her next Potions lesson was going to be more unpleasant than the first, and she wanted to be well prepared. She really didn't understand the concept of magical properties associated with magical potions, and was presently working verbatim from the textbook Professor McGonagall had told her to buy. The supplemental reading that Hermione recommended had considerably broadened her understanding. She read one very thick text on Herbology, one on Charms, and one on Transfiguration before her mind became data-overwhelmed.

"You're not going to read the rest?" asked Hermione.

"Are you trying to give me a migraine?"

"Um…no, of course not, I just thought with an eidetic memory, you could read them all…"

"My learning process isn't unlimited. I have accurate recall, but it isn't always instantaneous. My mind is a bit like a library. Everything has to be catalogued and put in its proper place so I can find it when I need to. If I collect too much information at once, it all gets cluttered up and takes me forever to sort it out."

"That's interesting, I hadn't thought about it that way," said Hermione. "Perhaps you could ask me some questions from my notes, if you wouldn't mind?"

"I'd love to."

###

Lindsay chose to eat dinner at the High Table. She sat between Hagrid and Lupin, and enjoyed a pleasant three-way conversation with them. Hagrid was particularly excited about her first lesson with him, which would occur the following morning. It would become Lindsay's habit to eat dinner at the High Table, breakfast at the Gryffindor table, and lunch with whomever was first to catch her arm.

Lindsay found herself settling in fairly well, but not as quickly as she normally did. She felt oddly out of place here, a feeling she was definitely not accustomed to. She was instantly popular with the students, most of whom regarded her as something of a novelty. The professors were polite and patient for the most part, except for Snape, who was cold, aloof, and bordered on hostile. Lindsay found him to be rather arrogant with regard to the subject matter he was teaching. She disliked his habit of trying to making her look like a fool, something he hadn't yet managed due in small part to Lindsay's innate self-possession, and in greater part to Hermione's tutelage. Having had two previous years with him gave Hermione greater insight into his behavior and, so far, she'd been spot-on.

Flitwick and McGonagall were as frustrated with her lack of practical magical ability as Lindsay herself was. She suspected that the only thing that kept them from kicking her out of their classes entirely was her exceptional grasp of magical theory. Lindsay was very grateful for Hermione's assistance in this regard, without her help Lindsay would have felt like a complete dunce.

Lupin had an extraordinary amount of patience and was very supportive. They quickly developed an amicable relationship that sat somewhere in between respect for a teacher and affection for a friend. He was a little freer with her than the rest of students due to her age, but it was very clear that their relationship wouldn't stray beyond the ethical boundary of student and teacher. She called him Remus in private and Professor Lupin in front of students.

Sprout's and Lindsay's personalities were quite similar in that they were both friendly and good-natured. They got on quite well, and Sprout was more than satisfied with Lindsay's performance in her lessons. Lindsay was also quite fond of Neville, a pleasant and helpful boy who had an intuitive skill regarding plant care. Sprout trusted Neville enough to allow him to teach Lindsay basic Herbology in her stead, which freed up her time; however, Sprout always personally supervised the more complex or dangerous lessons.

Hagrid became an instant favorite of Lindsay's. She regarded him as a fond uncle and spent a great deal of her free time with him. Sometimes she would take her guitar with her, and she and Hagrid would teach songs to each other. What she lacked in instinctive ability with magical creatures, she made up for in her great fondness and compassion for them, and Hagrid was very pleased with her efforts. He was particularly impressed with how well most of the animals took to her. Hagrid's intuitive ability with simple creatures easily rivaled Neville's ability with plants. Lindsay was in awe of the control Hagrid had over the animals in his care.

Hagrid was a simple man of simple means, but one of great insight and kindness. A profoundly benevolent soul, he was honest, unpretentious, and loyal, all traits that Lindsay held in very high regard. Superficially they seemed an unlikely pair. Lindsay was refined, elegant, and appreciated the finer things in life, which she certainly had the means to enjoy. Hagrid was rough and earthy, and yet they had a great understanding of one another. They took to each other like old friends who had been parted for many years.

###

Lindsay rose at her usual hour, just before dawn. She dressed for a run as Hagrid had been kind enough to show her a safe route well away from the Dementors that were guarding the school's perimeter. She hadn't yet seen a Dementor and had no desire to. She purposely avoided looking in the directions where they were stationed. Professor McGonagall had told her they were there and what their function was, but had left the more explicit details of their natures up to Professor Lupin. He'd explained what they were, what function they performed outside of Hogwarts, and that the use of the Patronus charm was the best defense against them. Lindsay, however, was in no way ready to learn such advanced magic.

Her morning exercise routine was arduous and unswerving. Sickness was about the only thing that would interrupt her habit. Afterwards, she would shower and have breakfast. If she had time between lunch and dinner, she would look for an empty space to have dance practice. She preferred to do this alone so she could concentrate, but the students always seemed to find her. Her attempted practices always ended up in a large gathering, with some students watching, others joining in, and still others trying to learn the steps. Much of the appeal was the fact that Lindsay was permitted to play music outside of her rooms. Although she disliked the interruption of her daily routine, she still enjoyed the company and remained patient and jovial.

Lindsay typically joined Hagrid after breakfast and followed him around for a few hours, helping with his chores. She would often break for tea with him, if she wasn't called away to a lesson.

"I got a surprise fer yeh today," said Hagrid with a beaming smile. He hollered loudly and within moments a hooved creature appeared. He put his hand on the neck of a particularly large Thestral and walked him over to Lindsay. "Meet Tenebrus," he said proudly. He dropped a large lump of sugar in Lindsay's hand. She offered it to Tenebrus, who sniffed it warily before taking it from her. "There yeh go," said Hagrid. "He likes yeh. Yeh can pat 'im now."

"Oh, Hagrid, he's beautiful. I've never seen anything like him."

"Misun'erstood crea'ures, Thestrals are. People think they're bad 'cause o' how they look. They can be a bit bad tempered if mishandled, but so can any animal. Treat 'em right and they're as sweet a sugar."

They had a tea-break in Hagrid's hut. Dinner was only a couple of hours away. Hagrid thought Lindsay was too elegant a lady for rock cakes, despite her insistence that she liked them, which was a lie. Instead, he offered her some biscuits from a very colorful tin. They were perfectly sized for her, but they virtually disappeared between Hagrid's thumb and forefinger. He thought, because of their tiny size and ornate tin, that they were something a distinguished lady would eat when, in fact, they were simple tea biscuits.

Lindsay kept her hand over her huge mug of tea because bats were crawling around the ceiling beams and flying freely around the hut, dropping guano wherever they went. Hagrid had found the mother dead outside an old hollowed-out tree and reared her three offspring. It's very rare for a bat to have triplets. They were much smaller than average because of their number and would never have survived on their own. Hagrid was quite pleased with himself for having saved them. They were almost old enough to be released. Buckbeak lay sleeping peacefully on Hagrid's bed, and Fang was asleep in front of the fire.

"I really don't feel like I belong here, Hagrid. I don't have much magic, and I can't control what I do have," said Lindsay.

"Yeh come to the right place. There's no finer school than Hogwarts, and you'll not find a better headmaster than Albus Dumbledore. Great man, Dumbledore, he'll have yeh trained up in no time. He's the only wizard that You-Know-Who ever feared, and that's sayin' somethin'."

"Who's You-Know-Who?"

"Ain't yeh never heard o' him?"

"Everything here is new to me, Hagrid."

Hagrid lowered his voice as if he were afraid of being overheard. "Well, You-Know-Who was a dark wizard. Yeh know what that is, right?"

"Afraid not."

"A dark wizard practices dark magic, which is the worst kind o' magic there is. Nasty evil stuff, it is. You-Know-Who was 'bout as dark as they come. Murdered a lot o' people, he did. Used the Killin' Curse on 'em. Our Harry is the only person ever to survive the Killin' Curse."

"You mean Harry Potter?"

"The very same," answered Hagrid proudly.

"Oh, you're teasing me. You really had me going, Hagrid."

"I'm not makin' it up. It's all true, I swear it."

"Little Harry fought a dark wizard?"

"No, no, he didn't fight 'im. Yeh see Harry was jus' a little baby. You-Know-Who killed Harry's mum and dad—good people they were too—when he tried to kill Harry, the spell bounced off and hit You-Know-Who instead. That's how Harry got that scar on 'is head."

"That's horrible, poor Harry. He's one lucky kid to have survived something like that." Lindsay sipped her tea, mulling over the horrible tale Hagrid had just told her. "You said Harry was a baby, does he know what happened to his parents?"

"Sure he does. Everyone knows it, 'cept you."

"So is this Sirius Black character a dark wizard too?"

"Now there's somethin' Harry don't know 'bout. Sirius Black is the one that betrayed Harry's mum and dad to You-Know-Who. He's the reason they're dead _and_…he's Harry's godfather."

Lindsay sharply drew a breath. "Oh, that's horrible! Do you think he's come to finish off Harry?"

"More than likely," answered Hagrid.

"I was wondering why a criminal would be so interested in a school. It makes perfect sense now."

###

"Good evening, Professor Flitwick. So good to see you again."

"And you, Miss Gray. Have you been practicing the material?"

"I certainly have."

"Let's get straight to it then." Professor Flitwick spent twenty minutes trying to teach Lindsay how to float a feather off of his desk. She had the 'flick and swish' technique down pat, and she recited _Wingardium Leviosa_ perfectly, yet the feather didn't move. They'd been practicing levitating simple items for several lessons and Lindsay was no further along. Flitwick was rapidly losing his patience.

"This is a first year lesson, Miss Gray! I've never had a student have so much difficulty with it!"

"I'm sorry, Professor. Can I try it a different way?"

"I'm willing to try anything at this point," snapped Flitwick.

Lindsay stashed her wand in her sleeve and put her hands on the desk where the stubborn feather lay. She focused her attention and a blue light appeared, encircling the feather. It rose from the table, hovered in the air for a moment, then settled back down to rest in its original spot. Flitwick was stunned.

"Remarkable…just remarkable…you managed with your hands, but not with a wand. I've never seen the like."

"I don't understand it, sir. Aren't wands supposed to help channel magic?"

"Not just channel it, but amplify it. If it's made correctly, that is. Wand woods have magical properties, as do their core materials. The correct combination of wood and core will bring out your fullest magical potential. I don't understand why this wand chose you only to refuse to cooperate with you."

"Chose me? I don't understand."

"The wand always chooses the wizard, or witch in this case. It's not like Ollivander not to explain that to you." Lindsay had no idea what he was talking about, and it showed plainly on her face. "May I ask where you purchased your wand?"

"I didn't, Professor Dumbledore gave me a spare."

"Well, that's the problem then!" said Flitwick excitedly.

"I still don't follow you, sir."

"Some wands are very loyal to their first owners and will refuse to bond with a new one."

"Are you telling me this thing is alive?"

"Not so much alive as quasi-sentient. How odd that Albus would do such a thing. He's a peculiar man in many ways, but this is bizarre even for him. I'll certainly be having a talk with him at the next staff meeting. This wand is holding you back, and we can't have that. Now tell me, what were you thinking when you made the feather float up?"

"I just imagined it floating."

"You didn't say the incantation in your mind?"

"No, sir."

"Remarkable."

###

Lindsay decided to spend some time in the common room before retiring. Although Professor Flitwick was very excited about the way she managed to float the feather, Lindsay was still frustrated by her inability to control her wand. She thought being around the chatty jovial Gryffindors would improve her mood. As she reached the top of the great marble staircase, she saw Neville pacing nervously in front of Sir Cadogan's portrait. His clothes and shoes were covered in earth. He'd clearly been working in the greenhouses. "What's up, Neville? It's almost curfew. You'll really get it if McGonagall catches you out here."

"I forgot the password."

"It's unicorn hair."

"Thanks, you're a life-saver."

Neville went up to his dormitory, while Lindsay sat in a chair next to the fire and watched the flames dance. She wasn't really interested in socializing, but she found the sounds of people talking and laughing around her relaxing. As the flickering flames lulled her, she began humming softly to herself.

"What's that you're singing?" asked Neville, who'd changed out of his dirt-covered clothes, and took a seat next to her.

"It's a lullaby. My mom sang it to me when I was little. Lullabies make me think of her." Neville appeared as though he wanted to say something, but turned his head away instead and stared at the fireplace. Lindsay could see that something had made him uncomfortable and thought it best to change the subject. She proceeded to tell him what had happened in her Charms lesson. "I didn't think to ask Flitwick if he could tell what the core was. Is there a way to tell?" Lindsay held up her wand, but Neville declined to take it.

"Hasn't anyone explained wand etiquette to you?"

"There's a protocol?" asked Lindsay.

"It's considered impolite to handle someone else's wand. It's acceptable in an emergency or among family members, but never done in polite company."

"Oh, I had no idea. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be rude."

"No need to apologize. Most people form a strong bond with their wands and don't like to use someone else's. You should ask Dumbledore what yours is made from."

"Neville, there's something I wanted to ask you. There's a jar of powder on top of my fireplace mantel…"

"It's Floo powder."

"Does it give people the Flu?"

"No," laughed Neville. "It's used for travel or to talk to other people on the Floo network…You still don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Just tell me if it's something Fred and George put there."

"It should look silvery. If it looks different, then Fred and George swapped it for one of their pranks. I'll go and have a look at it, if you like?"

"Would you? I'd feel much better if you did. It's making me paranoid; I keep waiting for it to explode or something." On the way to Lindsay's rooms, they bumped into a very angry and very purple Ron Weasley. "What did you do to yourself, Ron? You look like a rhinestone grape."

"_ME?_" he shouted. "WHAT DID _I_ DO?" Neville cringed and moved as far out of Ron's sight as he could.

"You didn't eat that shiny scone, did you?" said Lindsay.

"Well, I was hungry so I popped in for a bite. You weren't there, but I didn't think you'd mind. I saw that scone sitting on the table and…."

"It was a gift from Fred and George. I meant to throw it away, but I got sidetracked. Sorry, Ron, I should've told you about it."

"THOSE GITS!" shouted Ron, a new wave of rage flowing over him. His cheeks and ears were a much darker shade of purple than the rest of him. He stomped away toward the common room, fists balled at his sides. Seconds later, a roar of laughter was heard followed by angry shouting from Ron.

Lindsay went to the kitchenette while Neville inspected the Floo powder. "It looks fine to me," he said.

"You have no idea what a relief that is, especially after seeing Ron. Would you like to stay for a bit? We can have a nice chat." She looked through every cabinet and turned to Neville. "It looks like Ron cleaned me out. I'll just nip down to the kitchens, if you don't mind waiting. I'll only be a few minutes."

"Oh, I don't want you to get in trouble on my account," said Neville.

"I won't get in trouble. I don't have a curfew, the teachers can't give me detention, and I can only be expelled by the Headmaster. Make yourself at home, I won't be long."

Neville saw a sketchbook lying open on Lindsay's desk and began to flip through it. He saw sketches of Fred and George on broomsticks, Lupin leaning back in a chair reading a book, Hagrid patting a Thestral, Buckbeak on Hagrid's bed, Fang sprawled in front of a fire, Hermione sitting on a bench in the sun with an open book on her lap, Sprout smiling with a smudge of earth on her nose, and himself standing in a water garden, pulling weeds. Neville put the drawings down when he reached a page with some incomplete sketches of Snape.

When Lindsay returned, her arms were laden with snacks of every kind. "The house-elves are so gracious," she said.

"I was looking at your sketches. They're really good."

"Thank you, glad you like them. I'm having some trouble capturing Professor Snape, though. I haven't found his moment yet." Neville looked blankly at her from across the table. "Everyone has a special moment when their true selves shine out. It's when they're happiest and most comfortable, like Hagrid with his animals and you with your plants." Neville had no desire to discuss Professor Snape so close to bedtime and so changed the subject to art in general, a topic that Lindsay had a great passion for. They had tea and a few sandwiches and chatted away into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure you should be hiking out here, Remus? You still look awfully pale," said Lindsay. She had her arm hooked through his, which was a habit of hers whenever she walked alongside someone-except for Hagrid because of his great height and Flitwick because of his lack of height. Remus had a large fish-tank full of water floating along beside him. They were in search of another Grindylow to use in one of his classes.

"I'm fine, really. The fresh air is good for me. There's a large pool up ahead. We should find a Grindylow in there." A few more yards of trudging through mud and underbrush led them to a large marshy pool fed by an underground spring that stemmed from the Black Lake. The trees here were tall and old. Both the trees and the water's black surface were deathly still. The sunlight was sparse, making it seem quite eerie. Remus set the tank down on the muddy earth, and stopped to catch his breath. Lindsay had read enough of Hermione's recommended textbooks to know not to wander too closely to the water's edge. She skirted the pool looking for anything unusual.

"There's a swirl of water there, Remus."

"Good eyes, Lin." Remus drew his wand and mumbled something under his breath. An angry Grindylow emerged from the water kicking and biting at the air. He floated it through the air and plopped it into the tank. Lindsay crouched down to get a better look at it. The Grindylow flung itself against the tank's glass, trying to grab hold of her.

"You're not gonna hurt it are you, Remus?"

"You're worried about the welfare of a dark creature that would kill you if it had the chance?"

"But it hasn't killed me."

He smiled and shook his head. "I won't hurt it. I'll put it right back here when I'm done with it."

"Thank you."

A sudden chilled breeze blew between the trees making them both shiver. Remus knew exactly what was causing it, but waited to see Lindsay's reaction. The temperature dropped drastically and Lindsay was able to see her breath. "What's going on?" Remus didn't answer. Lindsay's eyes scanned the area and settled on a tall, dark, shrouded figure floating swiftly toward her. "What the hell is that?"

Remus wasn't sure if she'd be able to see Dementors, but it was obvious by her reaction that she could. He spoke loudly and sternly. "Sirius Black is not with us. We're here on school business. Move away." Lindsay moved closer to him, gripping his shoulder. A second Dementor appeared next to the first. "Alright then," said Remus. He pointed his wand at them and said, "Expecto Patronum". A silvery jet of light shot out of his wand and formed into a camel*, which threw the Dementors backwards. They floated away and mingled with the shadows. He holstered his wand and pulled a bar of chocolate out of his pocket. He broke a piece off and handed it to Lindsay, then broke another for himself. "Eat this. Chocolate helps relieve the effects."

"Thank you, but I don't need an excuse to eat chocolate," said Lindsay as she popped the chocolate into her mouth without hesitation. A warm relaxed sensation quickly enveloped her. "Oh, that's much better. Can we get out of here now?"

They left with the tank in tow. Remus' step was a little quicker on the way back, and Lindsay paid much greater attention to her surroundings. They set up the tank in Remus' office. She declined a cup of tea, and he made one for himself. He sat heavily in his chair and pointed to a large battered trunk on the floor. "I thought we'd try something a little different this time."

"I doubt the outcome will be much different than usual, but I'll try. What's in the trunk?"

"A boggart."

"Oh, great…."

"You just need a little confidence…."

"I need more than that, and you know it."

Remus smiled and set his teacup down. "We've discussed this. You know what to do. Draw your wand and concentrate. Tell me when you're ready, and I'll open the chest."

"Hit me, Remus."

He flipped open the chest and stepped away. The boggart emerged from the chest looking like a beautiful yet surreal caricature of Lindsay. It had a look of menace about it that made Remus shiver. He looked to Lindsay who was backing away, her eyes wide with fear, "Wand up, Lindsay, wand up." She continued to back away, her wand at her side. The boggart grew more confident and swelled in size as it approached her. "Riddikulus-say it, Lin!" shouted Remus.

He moved across the room with the intent of standing in front of her, his wand already drawn, when the most peculiar thing happened. Lindsay stopped backing away. Her eyes focused on the boggart and a determined expression spread over her features. The boggart reached out and grabbed her arm. A blue light flashed from the contact point, and the boggart flew into pieces; its parts nothing more than smoky remnants that disintegrated into the air.

"Well done!" shouted Remus, "A bit unorthodox, but certainly effective." He thought Lindsay would be happy with herself, but she appeared even more apprehensive than before.

"Did I kill it?"

"Boggarts are a type of shape-shifting spirit. You can't kill them, only dispel them."

"I don't like to hurt things, Remus. I prefer to find another way if I can."

He was truly baffled by her reaction, but tried, nonetheless, to be supportive. "I understand, but sometimes it's necessary to be hurtful. It would be foolish to risk your own life to protect a creature that intends to harm you. Well, I think you've had enough for one day…and I have papers to grade."

###

"The girl needs a new wand Albus," stated Flitwick. "She performs poorly enough without having to use an uncooperative wand."

"I'm not convinced that a new wand will be of much use," said McGonagall. "She hasn't managed to transfigure a single thing, not even a button. I'm fond of her, Albus. She's very likeable, but likeability doesn't mean she belongs at Hogwarts."

"I find her to be an excellent student, quite clever with an engaging personality. She's pleasant and cooperative, and seems to have developed a friendship with Neville Longbottom," said Sprout. Snape snorted at the mention of Longbottom's name. Sprout shot him a disapproving look, to which he raised an eyebrow in answer.

"That seems to be a consistent problem with the girl. She performs abysmally in practical lessons, but excels in magical theory and in subjects that don't require as much magical ability," said Flitwick. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I hate to say this, Albus, but I don't think the girl belongs here. She's impressively clever, but she's far too lacking in magical skills. She's a virtual squib."

Dumbledore looked pensive. His eyes shimmered as they moved from one set of eyes to the next. "How is she doing in Potions?"

"The girl performs adequately, Headmaster."

"High praise indeed, Severus," said Dumbledore pleasantly, which made Snape's mouth twist into a sneer. "Hagrid, your thoughts?"

"She's right good wi' animals, a fast learner, and a hard worker," answered Hagrid. Dumbledore nodded and turned his attention to Lupin.

"You've been very quiet, Remus. What are your thoughts?"

"I have to agree that she's highly intelligent, and I believe there's more to her than meets the eye. It's clear that she has some amount of magic, but why she's having so much difficulty controlling it is a mystery. She's evidently not a squib or she wouldn't have been able to float that feather…"

"That was very strange," said Flitwick. "She put her hands on the desk to do it, and she didn't recite the spell. I don't know what to make of it."

"Her magic is primitive," said Dumbledore. "She relies heavily on tactility. She seems to be able to affect objects simply by using willpower instead of incantations…"

"That seems more like advanced magic rather than primitive," said Snape.

"In a different context, it would be," replied Dumbledore. "She was able to manipulate the feather because it was in contact with the desk, which her hands were also touching. Once the contact was broken, she was unable to further affect the feather."

"So how do we proceed?" asked McGonagall.

"Pomona, Hagrid, and Severus, continue with your lessons. Minerva, Filius, and Remus, I'd like you to focus entirely on theory. I'll take over her practical lessons myself."

"Best of luck to you, Albus, but I think you're wasting your time," said Flitwick as he rose to leave.

Flitwick's comment annoyed Hagrid. "'Course he's not wastin' 'is time! Lindsay's dead clever! Maybe yer jus' not teachin' her right!"

"There's more to magic than wand-waving, Filius," said Sprout tersely. McGonagall chose not to comment, but the expression on her face made it clear that she agreed with Flitwick. All of the teachers filed out of the Headmaster's office except for Lupin.

"What is it that you wanted to speak to me about, Remus?"

"I had Lindsay try a boggart today. I didn't think she'd be able to do anything with it, but thought I'd try her anyway. She panicked at first and backed away from it, as I expected her to, but then she stopped…." His voice trailed away as though he were trying to organize his thoughts.

"_And_…," urged Dumbledore.

"She didn't raise her wand nor did she speak. The boggart reached out to touch her. I saw a blue light emanate from Lindsay's body, and the boggart burst into pieces. It was astonishing."

Dumbledore frowned and began to pace. "I'm as perplexed as you are, Remus. I'll need to ponder this. And I'd like you to keep that piece of information to yourself."

"Yes, of course…there is one more thing. The boggart took the shape of Lindsay herself."

###

Hermione Granger stopped in Lindsay's rooms on her way to the library. Lindsay wasn't there and Hermione assumed she was with Hagrid. She would apparently be going to the library alone. Hermione pondered for a moment then decided to look for Lindsay. Her huge work load was getting to her, and she really needed someone who could quickly grasp the subject matter without asking her stupid questions like Ron and Harry do. If she could get Lindsay to take some notes for her, she'd have a little extra time to do some research to help Hagrid with Buckbeak's appeals.

She headed for the lawn with the intent of going down to Hagrid's hut, but she didn't have to. Lindsay was on the lawn, just outside the castle doors, with a group of first years who were trying to teach her some simple spells. They took turns demonstrating how they were able to do them. Lindsay, of course, wasn't able to anything, which made the students roar with laughter. One of them even had the audacity to take Lindsay's hand while it gripped her wand and swish it for her. Hermione thought they were being awfully rude, but Lindsay laughed along with them.

Then an odd sight caught Hermione's attention, a thin dark figure creeping around one of the doors. It was Professor Snape. Hermione assumed he was trying to think of a reason to give everyone detention. Raucous laughter was usually excuse enough for him to split everyone up, but he didn't do anything. He just watched. Then Hermione took notice of the intensity with which he watched Lindsay; he was looking directly at her and following her with his eyes. Hermione cringed. Snape turned suddenly and caught Hermione observing him. "Is there a problem, Miss Granger?"

Hermione could feel heat rising to her face. "Uh…uh…no, sir…I…I was just…." Snape didn't wait for her to finish her stammering. He turned on his heel and stalked away, a flurry of billowing black. Hermione wasted no time in getting Lindsay's attention. She walked confidently through the throng of first years. "Lindsay, might I have a moment?"

"Sure, Hermione, is something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to know if you could spare some time to help me study."

"Oh, yeah, I've got a few hours." The first years began to groan and complain. "Sorry, guys, but duty calls. We can try again later." The first years began to mill around looking for something entertaining to do, while Lindsay followed Hermione and her hugely overstuffed schoolbag to the library. "I think you might be overworking yourself, Hermione. Maybe you should think about taking a break."

"I don't need a break," snapped Hermione. "I'm perfectly fine. It's…it's just that I have something I need to do for Hagrid…."

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?"

Hermione dumped a huge textbook on runes in front of Lindsay. "Since you can draw, I thought you could take some notes for me and accurately draw the corresponding runes with them. I need to get a supplemental book for you too." Lindsay thumbed quickly through both books before taking up Hermione's extra quill and writing very detailed notes along with the requested drawings. She filled four rolls of parchment and handed them to Hermione, who muttered a thank you and stuffed them in her bag without lifting her eyes.

Hermione looked completely frazzled as she poured over some legal books, presumably for Hagrid and Buckbeak. Hagrid told Lindsay what had happened between Buckbeak and Draco Malfoy and what the likely outcome would be. She had virtually begged Hagrid to let her help, but he insisted that there was nothing she could do. Apparently the Malfoy family had a great deal of influence in powerful circles. _"Obviously the magical community isn't so different from the Muggle world after all,"_ thought Lindsay.

###

Lindsay and Remus entered the Great Hall for lunch with Hagrid behind them. They sat together, as they often did, but with Remus in the middle where Lindsay typically sat. An empty chair sat between her and Flitwick. Then, in the Great Hall's entrance, appeared a woman in glittering violet robes and a heap of sparkling scarves. Her many beads and bracelets chinked and rattled as she made her way to the High Table. The Headmaster greeted her warmly, but everyone else seemed to be annoyed by her presence.

The woman stopped next to Lindsay, who held out her hand and said, "You must be Professor Trelawney. Very nice to meet you…"

"I received the most dire forewarning, my dear," said Trelawney as she took Lindsay's hand and sat. "I felt compelled to impart it to you." She began to study Lindsay's palm very closely. Lindsay sat silently watching the strange shiny woman examining her hand. Loud laughter erupted from the Gryffindor table and Lindsay looked to see Fred and George pounding their fists on the table and laughing so hard that tears were pouring down their cheeks. Lindsay began to feel very nervous.

"I was communing with the Fates when they impressed a most urgent message upon me." Lindsay looked to Hagrid, who had suddenly developed a great interest in his peas. She looked past Trelawney to Flitwick, who had turned in his chair, his back facing her, and was conversing with McGonagall, who was carefully avoiding Lindsay's eyes. "I was told to seek a new face, and I knew instantly that it must be you as I'd never seen you before." Trelawney took hold of Lindsay's other hand and examined it. Her voice became grave. "You are marked, my dear."

"Marked?" repeated Lindsay, looking at her hands. Remus snorted softly and his shoulders twitched as he tried to hide his laughter. He leaned over his plate; his face was slightly turned and shielded by his hand.

"I'm afraid that only a person gifted with _The Sight_ can see the mark."

"The sight?" repeated Lindsay softly.

Trelawney nodded. "There are a great many things that the average person is blind to." Trelawney's hand swept the air as though there was something there that only she could see. "Normally I prefer to dine alone, and I rarely descend from my tower. I find the encumbrance of magical persons disrupts my Inner Eye…."

"Inner Eye?" repeated Lindsay, more to herself than to Trelawney.

"…but I feel a responsibility to those untalented, such as yourself, to offer warning when danger might appear. I foresee a wicked event in your near future. Possibly this Friday, but I sense more strongly that it should be Thursday night."

"So," began Lindsay, "what will this wicked event be?"

"I dare not say. The details are too gruesome. I advise you to try and enjoy the time you have left." She looked at Lindsay with great pity in her eyes, which were magnified to an abnormally large size by the thick lenses of her glasses. "Pity, you seemed like a charming girl."

"Well…um…thanks for the heads up," said Lindsay, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Ones not possessed of the Inner Eye can walk blindly into danger if gifted persons like myself don't offer warnings in a timely fashion." Trelawney seemed quite pleased with herself, which only served to make Lindsay more uncomfortable.

"In the likely event that I don't see you again…um…it was very nice meeting you." Trelawney smiled and turned back to her lunch. Lindsay elbowed Remus, which made him laugh harder. He finished his lunch quickly and left her to fend for herself. She chatted with Trelawney for politeness sake, but finished her lunch more quickly than usual and excused herself. The Weasley twins managed to catch her as she was leaving the Great Hall. She was still looking a bit unsettled.

"So when's the sad day?" said Fred.

"Possibly this Friday," answered Lindsay, "but most likely Thursday night. That woman scares the pants off me."

"Don't worry, we'll help you plan the funeral," offered George, placing a reassuring arm across Lindsay's shoulders.

###

Lindsay had been invited to watch Slytherin's Quidditch practice. Remus saw her heading to the Quidditch pitch surrounded by some sixth and seventh year boys, and decided to invite himself. The boys were all talking over one another to get her attention. "Alright gentlemen," said Remus. "Give the lady some breathing room." The boys moved to the row of seats below them and Remus sat down next to Lindsay. Moments later, the boys all rose at once, looking quite nervous, and quickly left their seats.

"I'd like to thank you for laughing behind your hand when professor Trelawney was predicting my unfortunate demise, Remus. Do you know how hard it was to keep a straight face?"

"Sorry about that."

"No, you're not."

"Well, really, how could I be?"

"Remus, is it?" came the low silky voice of Severus Snape. He took a seat on Lindsay's other side.

"Professor Snape, so good to see you," said Lindsay wearing her usual warm welcoming smile.

"You two have become quite…_intimate_," said Snape, an unpleasantly suspicious expression upon his face.

"Yes, we have," said Lindsay cheerfully. "Would you like to join us? We could make it a happy little three-way." Snape's face reddened and his eyes grew wide. Remus snorted while trying in vain to hide his laughter. Snape blinked at her, unable to respond. "Nice job getting rid of the boys, Professor." (They were presently sprinting back to the castle.) "Look at them go. They're nice kids, but it's good to get a break from them once in a while. Oh, and good going dispelling that crowd last Tuesday. Did you see that, Remus?"

"No, I didn't."

"There was a huge crowd of kids choking the second floor hallway. Then, all of a sudden, the center of the crowd parted way and Professor Snape walked straight down the middle of it. It was like Moses and the Parting of the Red Sea. It was hilarious." She turned to Snape, gently bumping her shoulder into his, and continued on another topic. "Remus has been trying to explain Quidditch to me. I usually like sports, but I don't think I'd care to play this one. The broomsticks alone are enough to put me off. Do you ride, Professor…a broomstick, I mean?"

"Most witches and wizards do," answered Snape brusquely, still red-faced. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked unsure of himself. They watched most of the practice with both Snape and Lupin offering explanations of the goings on. Lindsay found the speed of the sport to be dizzying. There was so much going on at once that it was difficult to follow. Snape was the first leave, and did so without offering a farewell.

"Well done, Lindsay. Severus isn't often at a loss for words," said Remus as soon as Snape was out of earshot.

"I didn't like his insinuation, Remus. That was a very rude thing to say."

"Rudeness is a specialty of his."

###

Lindsay had a lesson with Snape after dinner, and she wasn't looking forward to it at all. She was less bothered by his surliness than by the silence during his lessons. He didn't talk with her at all other than to give instructions. This lesson would require the use of entirely fresh herbs, which were lying unlabeled in a jumbled heap on the worktable.

"You won't need your textbook," said Snape "The instructions are on the board." He said nothing else as he sat at his desk. He looked at her with a peculiar mix of lust and loathing. Her back was to him, but she knew exactly what he was doing. He did the same thing every lesson. Sometimes he'd sit at his desk and watch her, and sometimes he'd pace around her. It didn't bother her that he did that. She wasn't afraid of him; she just wished he'd talk to her.

She looked at the board for a moment then set about separating the herbs. Two of them weren't needed for this potion so she set them aside. This potion wasn't in her textbook, but she'd read about it in one of the books Hermione had given her and was able to spot some deliberate mistakes in the instructions. Snape rose from his desk to stand in front of her, a frown knitted between his brows. She had only looked at the board once and was doing everything correctly. Lindsay saw his frown and assumed he was wondering how she managed to cut up the herbs so quickly. She could stand the silence no longer and began to prattle. "I've been cooking for myself for some time now. But I wasn't very good at first so I took some cooking lessons. It's a great way to meet people. I never would've thought it would help so much with cutting these herbs."

He raised his eyes to hers; a particularly sour expression had crept into his features. "Is there a reason why you're telling me this, Miss Gray?"

"You just looked like you were wondering how I managed to cut this stuff so fast, so I thought I'd explain."

"How very thoughtful of you," said Snape, his eyes glittering as they stared into hers. "I'm not interested in your cutting skills-impressive as they are. Truth be told, I'm puzzled that you never read your textbook while in class, nor have you looked at the board more than once."

"I don't need to. I have an eidetic memory."

"Thank you for that revelation. Now, if you would kindly stop talking."

Lindsay went back to work and did as Snape had asked. He went back to his desk and continued his disturbing vigil. The silence annoyed her, but instead of talking, she began to sing softly.

"Miss Gray, did I not just tell you to stop that?"

"No, Professor," said Lindsay as pleasantly as usual. "You told me to stop talking. You didn't say anything about singing."

"Let me amend my earlier statement then. Please refrain from making _any_ vocal utterances."

"Do you have a headache, Professor?"

"Not yet, but I'll no doubt have one shortly."

"You won't convince me that my singing will be the cause of it. I've had years of vocal training and multiple offers to sing professionally in operas houses."

"I never cared much for operatic singing."

"What type of music do you like? I can mimic other styles." Lindsay thought she'd finally broken the ice and had started a conversation with him.

"Can you mimic the sound of silence?" Snape thought she'd be offended or annoyed, but she laughed pleasantly. She appeared to be genuinely amused, but part of him suspected she was mocking him. He abruptly rose from his desk and told her to leave.

"But I'm only half finished," said Lindsay, confused by the sudden rise in his temper.

"I said, _leave_."

Lindsay grabbed her bag and left the potions classroom. She must've done something to offend him, but she wasn't sure what. She decided she'd talk it out with him after he'd calmed down a bit. She bumped into Filch on the way back to her rooms. "Hi, Mr. Filch. How are you?"

"Well enough," he answered. He eyed her for moment, shifting his weight between his feet. He cleared his throat before continuing. "You wouldn't happen to have a little free time, would you?"

"I certainly would, sir."

"I have a hot kettle waiting in my office if you're interested."

###

"She's a very handsome cat, Mr. Filch," said Lindsay as she patted Mrs. Norris, who was sprawled on Filch's desk like a Queen. Lindsay had taken notice of the shiny, well-kept manacles hanging on the wall, but declined to begin a conversation regarding them. Filch was a few feet away making tea. He offered a cup to Lindsay and sat down next to her with his own hot tea cup in his hand. Filch's expression warmed immediately. He patted Mrs. Norris affectionately. "Did you hear that, my sweet? Mrs. Norris and I go back a ways. I got a picture album of her. Maybe you'd like to see it?"

"Absolutely, I love pictures." Filch pulled a thick photo album out of his desk drawer and handed it to Lindsay, who immediately began happily looking through it.

"So, what do you think of Hogwarts?" asked Filch.

"It's immense," answered Lindsay, "and beautiful."

Filch sat up a little straighter and smugly announced that he was the school's sole caretaker.

"Really?" said Lindsay, who deliberately sounded very impressed. "That's an enormous task for one person. I thought there'd be an army of people to look after this place."

"Nope," said Filch proudly, "Just me and Mrs. Norris."

"There's something special about historical buildings, don't you agree? They have a kind of…presence. Can I confide in you, Mr. Filch?"

Filch's eyes glistened darkly and a wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, "Certainly."

"Professor Dumbledore seems convinced that I belong here, but I'm not so sure. I'm just hopeless, you know. I can't seem to manage the simplest spells, and it hasn't been from lack of trying. I think I might be a squib."

"There are worse things to be," snapped Filch.

"Yes, you're right," agreed Lindsay.

Filch studied her, but didn't respond. Instead, he chose to focus on the photographs in her hand. "Let me just show you this one, it's one of my favorites," he said as he flipped a couple of pages.

"Oh, that's just precious," said Lindsay as she looked at Mrs. Norris' kitten pictures. Moving photographs still fascinated her even though she saw them daily in the newspaper.

"She was just eight-weeks-old when I snapped that one," said Filch with great pride. "And here she is with her first scratching post." Mrs. Norris abruptly rose and strode out of his office at a rapid pace. "What is it, my lovely?" said Filch as he rose to follow her with Lindsay in tow.

###

Harry and Ron had thrown on Harry's invisibility cloak and headed to the kitchens. Ron was starving and the twins were currently occupying Lindsay's rooms and wouldn't let them in. "I really wish Lupin hadn't taken that map away," said Ron. "I'd hate for Snape or Filch to catch us before we make it to the kitchens."

Ron was so intent on looking around for Snape that he wasn't watching where he placed his feet. "Ow," said Harry. "Watch it, Ron. You nearly tripped-" Ron stepped on Harry's shoelace. Harry fell forward and out of the protection of the cloak just as Filch caught up with Mrs. Norris.

"You!" shouted Filch. "You're always up to no good-."

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," blurted Lindsay. "It's my fault, Mr. Filch. Harry was going to help me with some wand techniques. He must've thought I'd gotten lost again and came to get me." Harry nodded his head vigorously. "So sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

Filch looked a little crestfallen. "I suppose I could let him off this one time." He looked at Harry with profound loathing in his eyes, "But _only_ this once."

Lindsay kissed Filch's cheek and he blushed. Harry cringed, as did Ron from under the invisibility cloak. "Thank you, Mr. Filch. I'd be wracked with guilt if Harry got into trouble because of me."

"Right…uh…thanks a lot," said Harry. Filch smiled at Lindsay and scowled at Harry.

"We should get back to the common room," said Lindsay. "Goodnight, Mr. Filch." She leaned down to pet Mrs. Norris. "Goodnight, pretty girl." Filch strode off to his office, beaming proudly at his cat.

Harry whispered a thank you, and Lindsay waited until Filch was out of earshot before speaking again. "Anytime, Harry, but what are you doing wandering around? You'll be in a lot of trouble if you get caught after curfew."

"Ron's hungry, so we thought we'd grab something from the kitchens."

"We?" said Lindsay, looking around and seeing no one else there.

"Take off the cloak, Ron," said Harry. Lindsay started when he seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"It's an invisibility cloak," explained Ron. "It makes anyone who wears it invisible."

Lindsay shook her head in disbelief. "You know what? The less I know the better, just be careful not cross Professor Snape tonight. He's in a right foul mood."

"When isn't he?" said Harry as he and Ron disappeared again under the cloak.

Lindsay began to walk away, but stopped in mid-stride and turned back to them. "Harry?"

"Yeah," answered Harry, popping his head out from underneath the cloak.

"You and Ron have your wands, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason," responded Lindsay. "Just…um…be careful."

"Okay." Harry and Ron watched her walk away before speaking. "That was a weird thing to ask."

"Maybe she's afraid the Git will hex us." Ron's stomach gave a loud rumble.

"We better get moving. I don't trust Filch. He probably went to tell Snape."

"We're alright, Harry. We've got the cloak," answered Ron.

"Which will do us no good if Snape hears your stomach growling."

###

Lindsay took the staircase that led directly to her rooms, bypassing the Gryffindor common room, with the intention of having a long hot bath. The entrance to this hallway was guarded by a knight in full armor. Professor McGonagall would tap him with her wand to get him to move, but Lindsay only had to touch him and he'd move aside for her. She detected a rotten odor as soon as she entered the hallway to her rooms. Black smoke was billowing up from under her door and wafted along the ceiling. She felt the door for heat before opening it, and saw the twins sitting at her kitchen table drinking tea and eating crisps. Half their faces were blackened, their hair was charred and stood on end, and their clothes were equally scorched except on opposite sides. The fireplace was a blackened smoldering heap as was the furniture that sat in front of it.

"Late night with Professor Snog…I mean Snape?" asked Fred.

"What is that smell?" asked Lindsay, deliberately ignoring Fred.

"Have a look in your bedroom," said George.

Lindsay opened the door and gagged, pulling her shirt over her nose. "It looks like a dinosaur pinched a loaf on my bed."

"The Weasley version of a dungbomb," said Fred with great pride. "It's a prototype and a bit bigger than we'd intended."

"No kidding."

"It gave off a lot more methane than we'd intended too. That's how the fireplace blew up," said George.

"You were standing in front of it, I take it?" asked Lindsay, examining the scorch marks on their clothes.

"Yeah, at first we thought the bomb was a dud. I turned around to blame George…" began Fred.

"…then…_BOOM_...the fireplace exploded," finished George.

"This is so bizarrely funny…and _really_ disgusting," laughed Lindsay. "But you have to get rid of it."

"It was supposed to dissolve within thirty seconds," said George.

"That was half an hour ago," said Fred.

"You've been in here for half an hour with that smell?"

"You get used to it," answered George.

"How do we get rid of it?"

"We don't know," said the twins.

"How am I supposed to sleep in here with a giant turd on my bed?"

"It's only the one," said Fred.

"Where's Hermione?"

They wouldn't have need of Hermione as Professor Dumbledore walked in. The grins on the twins' faces vanished immediately. "Headmaster," they said in unison, "what a pleasant surprise."

He looked silently around the room, his eyes twinkling merrily and a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"We've a slight mishap, sir," said Lindsay.

"Yes, I can see that. Why don't I just help you put everything right then?" With a causal wave of Dumbledore's hand, the rubble that was once the fireplace rose from the floor and reformed into a mantel. The broken furniture stood up and the scorched upholstery re-grew to pristine condition. The only thing left was the dinosaur turd on Lindsay's bed. "Might I ask what's causing that sickening odor?"

"It's in my bedroom here, sir."

"Oh, my, that is quite disgusting, isn't it?" One silent wave and the bed was clean again.

Lindsay drew in a deep satisfying breath. "Headmaster, I can't thank you enough."

"Not at all," said Dumbledore cheerily. "Nice to see you, boys, but if you wouldn't mind I'd like to have a word with…." The twins sprinted to the door, banging shoulders when they reached it. There was slight scuffle as they fought over who would get out first.

"Sorry about the mess," said Lindsay once Fred and George were gone. "It was a prototype of their version of a dungbomb. It made the fireplace explode. They didn't do that on purpose."

Dumbledore put his hand up. "Not to worry, Fred and George aren't in any trouble. I made a few mistakes myself when I was young. Still do from time to time." Lindsay motioned for him to have a seat at the table. She cleared away the tea cups and crisp bags that the twins had left and offered him some tea. He sat and requested that she to do the same. Lindsay was baffled, but did as Dumbledore requested. He waved his hand and the tray that held tea cups and the still hot teapot floated over to the table.

"Minerva has no doubt told you that I'll be taking over your practical lessons."

"Yes, sir, she did," answered Lindsay, her face and posture already showing signs of nervousness.

"This is your first lesson." Lindsay reached down for her wand, which she often kept in a side pocket of her work boots.

"You won't need that," said Dumbledore. "Relax and place your hands on the table. I want you to make tea without touching anything but the table. I wonder if you wouldn't mind playing your violin for me when we're finished? I'd love to hear some Mozart."

"It would be my pleasure, sir," beamed Lindsay. "I adore Mozart."

***Camel Patronus = patience, docility, perseverance.**


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe you get along with Filch," said Harry. He was sitting at a picnic table that Hagrid had set up outside of his hut. Ron sat next to him, Lindsay sat across from him, and Hermione was seated next to Lindsay. Everyone had their cups of tea. Huge rock cakes and some dainty tea biscuits were set out on an impressively large tray. They were waiting for Hagrid to emerge from his hut and join them.

"He's not so bad once you get to know him."

"Who would want to?" snorted Ron.

"I just like to get along with everyone," said Lindsay. "My mom called me a people-pleaser. Anyway, Filch is a sweetheart compared to Mr. Roberts. Did I mention him before?"

"No, you haven't," said Hermione, without lifting her head from an impressively thick Arithmancy textbook.

"He was the elderly uncle of one of my medical school classmates. He was quite ill. He had terminal cancer and needed looking after. Becca was too busy to look after him herself, so she asked me to help. We took turns checking in on him. He was a nasty piece of work. He hit people with his cane, threw things, and I'm told he even bit a few people. It took some effort, but we eventually became good friends. It's like what Hagrid says about animals, 'you have to find what calms them'. People are the same; you have to find their triggers. Mr. Roberts' trigger was literature. He had a vast knowledge of literary works. Personally, I never had much of an interest in literature, beyond what I had to read for school assignments. I was always more of hard cold facts sort of person."

"You can relate to that, can't you, Hermione?" said Harry with a wicked grin.

Lindsay blew on her hot tea a few times before continuing. "It was my night to look in on him. He was living in his library by this point. He couldn't make it up the stairs anymore…"

"That's so sad," said Hermione. Harry was politely listening. Ron looked bored.

"…I gave him his dinner, which he threw at me. I moved and it hit the pockets doors behind me and splattered onto some of his books. He became very upset and asked-well, pleaded really-that I clean them. I did, and then I gave them to him for inspection. We started talking about them, and that opened the door. I spent a lot of time with him after that. He taught me so much. I never thought that talking about books would teach me so much about people."

"I'm not sure I follow," said Hermione.

"There's a first."

"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione.

"When you read a book everything seems so obvious. The ink is black, the pages are white, and the words are all there in front of you. Mr. Roberts showed me that the real meaning is rarely the obvious one. There are secret meanings between the lines. Many times the writer isn't even aware of them. They're parts of the writer's subconscious that manage to escape onto the page for others to find. So books…well not so much books in general, but creative works are very much like people. The real person isn't usually the one we see, but someone deeper, someone hidden."

"You've totally lost me," said Ron.

"Why am I not surprised?" said Hermione.

"Then again, there are those people who don't hide much of anything-right, Ron?" said Lindsay with a grin, her cup of tea hovering about her lips. She took a sip and began again. "He was a living skeleton toward the end. He became so weak that he needed help with the smallest things. I remember the first time I helped him wash. He bore the indignity stoically, but I cried like hell-after I went home, of course. He was in tremendous pain, but he never complained, not once. I begged him to let me stay with him. I kept telling him how worried I was, but he just said in that very haughty way of his, _'Don't be silly, I'm going to live forever.'_ I checked on him one morning, on my way to class, and he was gone. He looked so peaceful; all the pain in his face was gone. I really miss him…I'm not talking too much, am I?"

"Just a bit," said Ron. Hermione kicked him under the table.

"I have to respect blunt honesty," said Lindsay.

"Look, there's Snape with his wand out," said Ron. "I wonder what he's up to." They all turned to see Snape with his wand drawn, sprinting toward the tree line and disappearing.

"Ah, the double entendres that are running through my mind right now."

"See that they stay there, Miss Gray," came the stern voice of Minerva McGonagall from behind Lindsay. She was quickly striding toward Hagrid's hut.

"Yes, ma'am," said Lindsay.

"Double what?"

"Double meanings, Ronald," said Hermione.

"Huh?"

"I'll explain it to him later, Hermione," said Harry.

"That guy moves like greased lightning," said Lindsay as she set down her huge tea cup.

"He isn't called the Greasy Git for nothing," said Ron.

"Hagrid!" hollered McGonagall.

Hagrid popped his head out of the window of his hut. "What can I do fer yeh, Professor?"

"One of your beasties has gotten loose!" Everyone at the table rose and charged toward the spot where Snape had just been seen, and nearly ran over Professor Flitwick in the process. They ignored McGonagall's instructions to stay put. They could hear branches breaking and the angry shrieking and snarling of an animal. They followed the sound and found an injured hippogriff. Snape was trying to corral it when it reared up and snapped off a tree branch with its wing. The branch dropped onto the top of Snape's head, and he collapsed to the ground unconscious. Lindsay was running so fast that she slid to a stop and fell on the ground next to Snape. She spied his abandoned wand and stuffed it into the side pocket of her boot. The injured hippogriff was just about to take a swipe at Lindsay's head when Hagrid appeared and forced it back. Everyone else had arrived by this time and set about confining the animal. "Professor Flitwick!" shouted Lindsay. "He has a head injury. He needs his head and neck braced before we can move him."

"I can do that," answered Flitwick as he focused himself. Instantly, a white brace appeared around Snape's head, neck, and chin. Lindsay's hand was on his arm. A faint blue light encircled Snape's body as he was raised off the ground.

"I can run faster than you, sir," said Lindsay.

"Go, girl, go!" shouted Flitwick.

Lindsay sprinted back to the castle with Snape's unconscious form at her side. The voices of six people shouting instructions to each other died away quickly as she dashed across the grounds. She entered the castle shouting "Make way! Make way!" not that it was necessary. Apparently Snape could clear a room even in an unconscious state. She quickly made it to the hospital wing shouting for Madame Pomfrey. Lindsay floated Snape's body over an empty bed and lowered him onto it as Pomfrey materialized at her side. "He has a head injury. We need to check for brain trauma, cranial fractures, vertebral compression fractures, and..."

"Out!" shouted Pomfrey in indignation.

"I'm a trained physician!" Lindsay shouted back.

"Out, I say!" screamed Pomfrey and shoved Lindsay out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Lindsay paced angrily in the hall outside the medical ward for a few seconds before remembering the injured Hippogriff. She moved as quickly through the castle as she could, but it was difficult without Snape's presence to get everyone out of the way. She finally made her way to the outside grounds and bolted to join everyone she'd left only moments ago. The Hippogriff was contained now. Stray branches, logs, and stones of every size were held together magically to form temporary walls. The poor animal was badly injured and looked wild-eyed. Its left wing was broken and it had shards of glass sticking out of its side and chest. It was emaciated; all of its ribs were clearly visible. Lindsay wasn't sure if it was dirty or not, but its coloring appeared to be charcoal grey.

"He was flying erratically and hit one of the greenhouses. Pomona's making repairs right now," said Flitwick to Hagrid.

"He's in right sad shape, poor thing," said Hagrid. "Anyone know where he come from?"

"We thought he was one of yours," said McGonagall.

"Not mine," answered Hagrid, shaking his head. The more he looked at the poor animal, the angrier he became. "Never seen 'im before. None o' Hogwarts' herd 'as that dark color. It's very rare that."

"Is there anything we can do to help, Hagrid?" asked McGonagall.

"No, too many people will jus' frighten 'im. I'll need to win 'is trus' 'fore I can help 'im."

Hagrid shooed everyone away. Hermione went to collect her book from Hagrid's picnic table while Ron and Harry strode back to the castle behind Flitwick and McGonagall. "We should go and see if Pomona needs any help, Filius. Then we'll check in on Severus."

"They're both going to be in fine humor, Minerva."

Lindsay was the only one to linger. "Should I fetch your med bag, Hagrid?"

"I'd appreciate that," answered Hagrid. "But leave it on the ground 'ere and try not teh let 'im see yeh."

Linsay nodded and sprinted back to Hagrid's hut. His medical bag was sitting on the floor next to the table. Neither Fang nor Buckbeak roused when she entered to retrieve it. Hagrid's bag was a large brown leather satchel full of basic veterinary supplies, ointments, potions, and various types of anti-venom. Some of them he'd made himself and the more complicated ones had been made by Snape.

Lindsay strained to lift the bag and struggled with it all the back to Hagrid. She let out a low whistle as she approached the temporary stockade and Hagrid raised his hand to let her know that he heard her. She placed the bag on the ground then returned to the castle without another word. She avoided the hospital wing under the assumption that Snape would be asleep for at least a few hours. She settled on the lawn to watch Fred and George toss a bludger back and forth. Moments later, Hermione settled down next to her with yet another large book in her hands.

"You're gonna go blind, Hermione."

Hermione ignored the comment. "I stopped to see how Snape was on my way back. He's sitting up-"

"He's awake?" blurted Lindsay. "I thought for sure he had a bad concussion."

"He does. That's why Madam Pomfrey won't let him out until tomorrow morning. He's not at all happy about it."

"He's sitting up and talking with a concussion?"

Hermione looked exasperated, as she often did when explaining something to Ron, but she didn't get a chance to elaborate as Draco Malfoy sauntered up to them with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Fred and George saw Malfoy approach the girls and seriously considered hitting him with the bludger before deciding to settle behind the girls, hovering on their brooms. They missed the beginning of the conversation, which is the only reason they didn't hex Malfoy on the spot.

"Well, look what we have here, boys. It's a squib and a mudblood."

Hermione's face reddened in anger, but she didn't get the chance to retort as Lindsay beat her to it.

"It's obvious that there's some tension between us, Draco-" began Lindsay as pleasantly as usual. Her placid tone made Hermione that much angrier.

"How dare you speak to me, you piece of filth!" Draco drew his wand and hexed Lindsay, thinking that a squib wouldn't be able to retaliate. The spell had barely been released from his wand and it was shot back at him. He flew into the air and landed, panting, on the lawn about ten feet away from where he'd been. Crabbe's and Goyle's tiny brains had difficulty processing what had happened and stood in confusion for several seconds before tending to the irate Malroy. He rose, slapping Crabbe's and Goyle's hands away, and shot a venomous glare at Fred and George before leaving. The twins laughed hysterically as the three of them ran away.

"I can't help but wonder what kind of home life that kid has. He mustn't have had very good role models," said Lindsay, still undaunted.

"That's exactly what George and I were thinking."

"It's like you read our minds," said George.

"What's that in your boot?" said Hermione pointing to Lindsay's boot.

"It's my wand," answered Lindsay without looking. "These boots have pockets on the sides. I love these things; they wear like iron. Great for hiking and working outdoors-"

"No," said Hermione in frustration. "That looks like Professor Snape's wand. Professor McGonagall was looking for it."

"Oh, you're right! I forgot I put it in there. I'd better give it back to him." Lindsay rose and headed for the hospital wing.

"What did you hit Malfoy with? I saw a flash of blue light, and I didn't recognize the spell."

"We didn't hit him with anything," answered Fred.

"I thought it was you," said George.

"It wasn't me," said Hermione. "My wand is still in my pocket."

"It couldn't have been Lindsay," said Fred.

"She's worse than Neville," said George.

Fred nudged George as he watched Crab and Goyle trying to keep up with a swift-running Malfoy. "We should've hit him with the bludger."

###

Lindsay reached the hospital wing just as Dumbledore was leaving it. "Hello, Professor." Dumbledore smiled, but didn't answer. He pointed to his mouth as he was obviously eating something, most likely something sweet. Lindsay nodded to him and entered the hospital wing. McGonagall was the first person she spotted. "I have Professor Snape's wand. Sorry, Professor, I stuffed it in my boot and forgot about it."

"That's a great relief, Miss Gray. Filius and I searched everywhere and couldn't find it. We thought the Hippogriff might have eaten it."

Snape was sitting up in bed. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked to be in a particularly unpleasant mood. Lindsay was surprised to see that he had no bandage on his head. His hair and face were clean. Obviously Madam Pomfrey had washed it while he was unconscious, most likely so she could dress the wound on the top of his head. Lindsay stood next to his bed. "I bet you're happy to get this back." She pulled Snape's wand from her boot. The instant she touched it, a powerful jolt of energy ran through her hand. She stared at it in wonder.

"Is something wrong, Miss Gray?" said Snape.

"Yeah…um, I mean, no, of course not. Here you go, Professor." She handed the wand to him and patted his arm. "I've just remembered something, Professor. I'll be right back." She turned and darted out of the ward.

"No running, Miss Gray," shouted McGonagall. Snape groaned and put his hands to his head. "Oh, forgive me, Severus. I forgot myself."

Lindsay dashed up the hall and caught up with Professor Dumbledore. She pulled her wand out of her boot and held it up for him. "It's fake! You gave me a fake wand!"

"It's a paperweight," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"I've been walking around with this thing for almost two months." Dumbledore grinned broadly at her. "It's not funny, Professor…well, alright it is. It's hilarious, in fact. But why-why would you deliberately make a fool of me?"

Dumbledore took her arm, and she stashed the fake wand back in her boot. "I didn't do it to make you look foolish. It did it because you're terrified of your abilities. A wand would amplify your magic, thereby increasing your fear. You must accept what you are-"

"You saw what I did. I got angry and destroyed an entire room. What if someone had been in there?"

"But no one was in there. You wouldn't have harmed anyone if there had been. Your concern for other's welfare is too great."

Lindsay shook her head. "I can't control it, Professor."

"You have much more control than you realize. Come up to my office with me. I want to show you something." They ascended the stone staircase to the Headmaster's office. He strode over to a cabinet, opened it, and with a wave of his hand, floated a stone bowl embossed with runes onto a table. "Do you know what this?" Lindsay shook her head. "This is called a Pensieve. It can store memories and allow them to be viewed. Now, I want you to recall Severus getting injured."

"Why?"

"Just, trust me. Is the memory clear in your mind? Good, now imagine yourself giving it to me." Dumbledore raised his wand to Lindsay's temple and drew out a long silvery thread and placed it in the Pensieve. "Now lean into the bowl. I assure you it's perfectly safe."

_Lindsay did as Dumbledore instructed and found herself running alongside…herself. "This is weird," she said, but no one seemed to hear her. She followed her other self to the Hippogriff. She winced as she watched the branch smash onto Snape's head. The events replayed just as she remembered with one exception. She thought Flitwick had levitated Snape's body for her to transport, but she was seeing herself do it. Not only did she do it without dropping him, but she made it all the way to the hospital wing without assistance. _

She stood up from the bowl, a shocked expression on her face. "I thought Professor Flitwick lifted him. I have a photographic memory, how could I not remember correctly?"

"Because you didn't want to," answered Dumbledore. "To accept that you can control your magic, means accepting that it's a part of you." He strode over to a small jar on his desk and brought it over to Lindsay. "Lemon drop?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. My parents traveled extensively and, obviously, so did I. I've visited huge modern cities, and ancient towns and cities full of equally ancient customs. I've been to some of the most remote places in the world and met all manner of people, but I never felt so out of place until I came here. This is a world within a world, and I'm lost in it. My sense of reality has been turned upside down."

"Magic is not a curse, Lindsay, but a great gift; a gift made all the greater because your magic is unique."

"Everything is so new, Professor. I feel like I'm in a dream, and I don't know what's real and what isn't."

"What makes you think that dreams aren't real?" countered Dumbledore. "Perception versus reality, it's a confusing deliberation at the best of times. As a musician, you have greater aural acuity than most people. Does that mean your musical perceptions are false just because others can't hear what you hear?"

"What if I do something wrong?"

"Then you'll try again until you've got it right, just like we all do. Trust yourself, Lindsay. It's high time you faced your true nature. And stop punishing your body. This grueling exercise routine of yours is unhealthy. You think if you exhaust yourself enough, you'll exhaust your magic too. I'm afraid it just doesn't work that way."

Lindsay looked shocked. "How did you know?"

"I'm a busybody," replied Dumbledore. He smiled at her, and his eyes began to twinkle again. "Now, go and visit Severus. I know you're eager to question Poppy."

"Right again, Professor," said Lindsay. "Thank you, sir."

Lindsay returned to the hospital wing feeling lighter, as though a great weight had been lifted from her. She entered to see McGonagall seated next to Snape and looking like she'd rather be elsewhere. Madam Pomfrey was trying to encourage him to eat. "Hello, all," said Lindsay. "Sorry I ran out on you, Professor Snape. Now that I'm back, I promise to give you my full attention."

"Lucky me."

"So how are you feeling, any dizziness or nausea?" Madam Pomfrey harrumphed as she stood next to McGonagall, carefully observing Lindsay.

"No, just a slight headache," answered Snape.

"Extraordinary," said Lindsay. "May I look at the cut on your head?"

Snape frowned and seemed unsure how to answer such an unexpected question. "I suppose," he said slowly.

Lindsay gently pushed his hair behind his ears and cupped his face in her hands. Snape stiffened, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar contact. She first looked into his eyes and muttered, "No dilation." His hair was parted centrally, right where the majority of the gash was located, which made spotting and treated it easier. There was a clear paste smeared liberally over it. There was very little swelling. The gash was closed and the skin was already well-knitted. "Was there any brain swelling, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I wouldn't be worth much if I couldn't handle something as simple as a swollen brain," answered an increasingly perturbed Pomfrey.

"Any vertebral damage?"

"Some minor compression fractures, but nothing I couldn't mend."

Lindsay released Snape's face and kissed the top of his head, well away from the injury. His eyes widened and he rubbed his hand over the spot as if it were itchy. "I'm in awe of your skill, Madam Pomfrey."

Poppy's vexation immediately cooled and she thanked Lindsay. "I did nothing special; any medi-witch could've done the same." She turned her attention to Snape. "You had better eat that, Severus, if you plan on leaving this ward by tomorrow."

"May I sit, ma'am, or were you two having a private conversation?"

"Please do join us, Miss Gray," answered McGongall, who appeared to be very relieved to have another person join them, especially one as loquacious as Lindsay.

Lindsay sat on Snape's other side and instinctively scooped up his hand so it rested between hers. He glowered at her, but didn't pull away. "You're probably wondering why I ran out of here like I did."

"Not really," answered Snape.

"I am a bit curious, Miss Gray," said McGonagall, shooting an acid look to Snape.

"When I took Professor Snape's wand out of my boot, I felt a jolt of energy from it. I hadn't noticed it earlier because of all the excitement." Both McGonagall and Snape appeared baffled. "My own wand doesn't do that." They still looked confused. "So I ran after the Headmaster and he informed me that my wand is actually a paperweight."

McGonagall blinked. "I'm sorry, Miss Gray, did you say that Professor Dumbledore gave you a paperweight?"

"Yes, I did."

After a moment of stunned silence, McGonagall's cheeks began to flush. "All this time!" she began. Snape winced. "No wonder you've been doing so poorly. I can't believe Albus would do such a thing to you. You're taking this awfully well, I must say."

"I was a bit angry at first. But I do love a good joke, even if I'm the butt of it."

"This is no laughing matter, Miss Gray. Albus' little lark has wasted both your time and ours. Not to mention how foolish you must've felt. Stop smirking, Severus!" McGonagall rose abruptly. "I'm going to have a talk with him. Severus, eat that! It's not poison, you know." She stormed out of the hospital wing slamming the door behind her.

"Yikes, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that," said Lindsay. She pulled Snape's tray of food over the bed where she could get a better look at it. Her other hand still held his. "Let's see what you've got here. That looks tasty," she said as she picked up a fork. "Do you want some help?"

Snape yanked the fork from her hand and dislodged his other hand from her grasp. "I do not," he growled. "I'm quite capable of feeding myself."

"All right, Professor," said Lindsay, who sounded like she was placating a petulant child.

Madam Pomfrey returned and was very pleased to see that Snape had begun eating. "Do you need anything, Severus? No? I'll be back with something to help you sleep when you're finished. He'll be needing some rest, Miss Gray…."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Lindsay and rose to leave. She leaned in to kiss Snape's forehead, but he flinched away. She smiled and kissed the tips of two fingers and touched his shoulder with them. He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Pleasant dreams, Professor."

###

McGonagall stormed up to the Headmaster's office, her anger growing by the second. Dumbledore lowered his magazine to greet her. "Minerva, what a pleasant-"

"How could you, Albus?" she shouted.

"Lemon drop?"

"No, I don't want a blasted lemon drop! A fake wand, how could you do that to the poor girl? You made her look like a fool!"

"Minerva-"

"Weeks! For weeks she's been trying to use a paperweight as a wand! No wonder her spell-casting has been so disastrous! If she'd been a matriculated student, she'd have failed half of her classes! Wait till Filius hears about this! If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were one of the Weasley twins!"

"Minerva, are you quite finished? It was for her own good. I didn't do it to embarrass the girl."

"What possible good could come from a juvenile prank like that?"

"You saw how she was when we met her. She was terrified of magic. A real wand would've only frightened her more."

"We are experienced instructors, Albus," said Minerva indignantly. "We could've helped her through it."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It wouldn't have worked. She'd have given up and gone home the first time she used her wand. The girl's immersed in a world where magic is expected, completely the opposite of how she's been brought up. She feels uncomfortable and out of place. A need to please others is a great part of her character, so it was important for her to be here long enough to form attachments. She respects you, and she'll want to prove herself to you. It was a harsh lesson for her, I admit, but it was a necessary one. I think we'll be seeing great improvements in her."

###

The jokes about Snape's clean hair and overnight stay in the hospital wing were endless: he lost a fight with an enchanted shampoo bottle; he'd had his first shower and got sick; he accidentally fell into a large soapy cauldron, and on and on they went. Snape must've been aware of them because, according to Neville, he was even meaner and more vindictive than usual. Students from all of the houses, except Slytherin, saw a drastic rise in detentions.

There was a crowd of Gryffindors in varying years in Lindsay's rooms. Her door was open. Students were coming and going, helping themselves to whatever edibles that Ron had left in her kitchenette. The twins had somehow found a crate of butterbeer. Lindsay preferred not to ask them how they'd come by it. She sat in her desk chair with her guitar in her lap, strumming it softly. It seemed like every kid that came in had a new Snape joke. "I don't want to be a stick-in-the-mud, guys, but it's not funny to ridicule someone behind his back. He doesn't have the chance to defend himself. " All heads in her near vicinity turned in her direction, a slight feeling of tension rose in the air.

"You're not actually defending The Greasy Git, are you?" asked Fred. He'd transfigured Lindsay's violin into a ukulele and was presently strumming it.

"I suspect a curse," said George. He rose with his wand drawn and began to scan Lindsay with it, trying to detect dark magic.

"I haven't been cursed, George."

"Cursed people always deny being cursed," replied George. "Can't find anything, Fred."

"Hmm, this is puzzling," said Fred.

"Oh, stop it, you two. I'm fine. It's just that I value honesty. If I have a problem with someone, I like to discuss it with him and get it settled rather than talk behind his back."

"We'd say it to his face, but our instinct for self-preservation is too great," remarked George.

"We're not being dishonest," explained Fred. "Since The Git abuses his authority as a teacher, we feel no guilt whatsoever in ridiculing him behind his back. Tit for tat, right George?"

"Right, Fred."

"I hate to say this, but you two can be really cruel sometimes…wait a second," said Lindsay, looking around the room. "Have you seen Neville?"

"Nope," replied the twins.

Lindsay rose, placed her guitar in her vacated chair and headed for the common room. No one there had seen Neville either. "I bet he forgot the password again," muttered Lindsay. She moved Sir Cadogan out of the way to find a very flustered Neville standing in the hall trying to recite a rhyme. He wasted no time getting into the common room before any of the teachers caught him.

"I tried to put the password in a rhyme like you told me," said Neville, "but Sir Cadogan kept shouting at me and I got confused."

"Poor Neville," said Lindsay as she gave him a quick hug. "We'll find something that works for you."

"I think I should just write the passwords down from now on. I'm going to turn in. Good Night, Lindsay."

Loud applause erupted from Lindsay's rooms. "Lindsay, you're missing it," shouted Jackson, a sixth year boy who'd taken quite a shine to Lindsay. "George transfigured your guitar into a three-and-a-half string lute. He and Fred are performing a song they wrote."

"There's no such thing as a three-and-a-half string lute," replied Lindsay.

"There is now."


	7. Chapter 7

"What're yeh doin' havin' tea with that sneakin' squib?"

"Word travels fast around here," said Lindsay. "Who spilled the beans?"

"Never yeh mind." Hagrid was in an ill-tempered mood. He had to release the bats he'd reared, and it was really hurting him to part with them. They were already safely collected in his satchel, and he and Lindsay were waiting for the sun to go down to release them. The poor condition of his new Hippogriff was adding to his bad humor. The animal's physical wounds were healing, but his state of mind was no calmer. He wasn't bonding with Hagrid, and he wasn't yet strong enough to be introduced to Hogwarts' Hippogriff herd. Hagrid worried about the poor animal's uncertain future, and his fear was coupling with his anxiety over Buckbeak's impending punishment.

"I just like to get along with people, Hagrid," answered Lindsay.

"There's some people yeh just can't be nice teh," warned Hagrid. "Now yeh listen to me. Yeh don' tell that sneakin' squib nothin'. He'll turn on yeh in an instant if he thinks he's got a good bit o' gossip. Mark my words."

"Alright, Hagrid, I promise to be very cautious around Filch."

"We bes' get goin'. The littluns'll be wakin' up soon." Hagrid rose from his chair, picked up his satchel and crossbow, and headed for the door. He turned to give poor Buckbeak a doleful look before closing the door behind him, and taking his lantern from Lindsay. They strode from Hagrid's hut toward the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid's boarhound, Fang, in tow. Hagrid had his satchel over his shoulder, the lantern in one hand, and a massive crossbow in the other. "Yeh never been in the Forbidden Forest, have yeh?"

"I've been in the edge of it with Remus to fetch a Grindylow," replied Lindsay.

"The forest is dangerous, so don' go wanderin' away."

"I have no intentions of wandering, Hagrid. I'm a coward at heart." Hagrid laughed; he patted her shoulder and nearly sent Lindsay on her face. They walked a considerable distance into the seemingly endless forest. Lindsay was very nervous and stayed close to Hagrid. The Forbidden Forest had the feel of something ancient; it had a subtle presence, like it knew they were there. The forest was oddly beautiful in its own dark way, dangerously enticing. Lindsay thought of the old poem, _"The Spider and the Fly."_

At last, Hagrid found the ideal spot to release his precious cargo. With teary eyes, he set down his lantern, removed his satchel from his shoulder and opened it. The three occupants crawled out onto his outstretched arms. "Go on now. This is where yeh belong." They stretched their wings and circled Hagrid's head several times before disappearing into the darkness. Hagrid sobbed into his hankie.

"It's sad, I know," said Lindsay, reaching up to pat Hagrid's arm. "But they have to grow up." A rustling to Lindsay's side drew her attention. "What is that, Hagrid? Is that a little black dog?" Hagrid didn't hear her. The blast from his nose being blown into the hankie drowned out her voice. The black furry creature, roughly the size of a small spaniel, stopped moving and seemed to invite Lindsay's approach. She moved slowly and cautiously, talking softly to it. It was hard to tell because of the poor light being cast from Hagrid's lantern that still sat on the ground, but the animal looked strangely round, not dog-like at all.

Lindsay stopped and turned to get Hagrid's attention. The animal sprung up and sunk its fangs into her thigh. She yelled from both the sudden fright and the burning pain. Hagrid caught her before she fell. He wrapped his hand around the spider's fangs and carefully unhooked them from Lindsay's thigh. He flung the spider into the brush. It rushed up a large nearby tree and was met by an adult Acromantula. "I must apologize for my son, Hagrid. He's impulsive, but he is only two."

There was no time to argue as Lindsay needed medical treatment. Hagrid carried her to the hospital wing as fast as he could. She'd just begun to cough up blood as he arrived and left her in Madame Pomfrey's care. "Was a baby Acromantula," said Hagrid, barely able to catch his breath. "Bit 'er by acciden', too young teh know better."

Madame Pomfrey gave Lindsay a vial of general spider anti-venom and called for Snape. He would need to brew a batch of Acromantula anti-venom. The anti-venom for this species was unstable and didn't keep for more than a few weeks. It was rarely needed and, therefore, deemed not cost effective to keep it on hand. "That'll slow the effects until Professor Snape can brew the proper potion for her." She cleared the fluid from Lindsay's lungs and put her into a deep sleep. She would remain stable until the proper anti-venom could be administered.

Snape was asleep and didn't appreciate being jolted awake by Madame Pomfrey's voice urgently requesting his assistance. He didn't answer her; he rose, dressed, and began brewing. This potion required a certain level of expertise, but it didn't take very long to brew. He arrived in the hospital wing twenty minutes later with a fizzing, bubbling potion in hand. Both Professors Sprout and McGonagall had arrived within seconds of hearing Pomfrey's emergency call. Hagrid stood a little distance away looking doleful and periodically wiped his eyes with his shirt-sleeve. McGonagall paced pensively, and Sprout sat next to Lindsay patting her hand and petting her face.

This was no time to be concerned with politeness. Madame Pomfrey quickly took the potion from Snape's hand and returned immediately to her patient. She conjured a clear tube that extended down Lindsay's throat. Madame Pomfrey held a small funnel and slowly poured the fizzy potion down Lindsay's throat. It was a tediously slow procedure because of Lindsay's unconscious state. Once finished, Pomfrey flicked her wand and both the tube and its funnel disappeared. She set the goblet aside and checked Lindsay's' vitals.

"You arrived just in time, Hagrid," said Pomfrey as she straightened up. "She'll be alright in a few days. Thank you, Professor Snape. I'll be needing two more doses for her; the next must be administered in four hours."

"I made a small cauldron full. I'll bring it to you."

Dumbledore arrived just behind Flitwick. Neither had the chance to ask anything as Hagrid blurted, "It was my fault! I shouldn' a took 'er wi' me to the forest!" He became so emotional that he wasn't able to speak coherently. Pomfrey shushed him and continued in his stead.

"Miss Gray's been bitten by a juvenile Acromantula. She has a very deep bite wound on her leg. Hagrid arrived just as her internal organs began to break down into jelly. She's very lucky that it was a juvenile, or she'd be in much worse condition. I'll keep her asleep for another twenty-four hours. She'll be right as rain in a few days."

"It was an unfortunate accident, to be sure," said Dumbledore to Hagrid.

"There's nothing more to be done," said Pomfrey. "You may visit her when she wakes, but for now, I must ask you all to leave."

Neville was the first visitor that Lindsay received after she woke. She was still groggy from medication and Madame Pomfrey hadn't let her out of bed yet. Neville sat on her bed and read to her from a gardening magazine. There were loads of pictures of fabulous gardens.

"I really like that one, Neville. I think I'd like something like that in my garden."

"It'd have to be very large," replied Neville.

"Oh, it is. I have loads of space. You should come and see it sometime. Right now it's so dreary and empty. Maybe you could tell me what to plant in it?"

"I'd love too. I'll visit first thing when school lets out, after I visit my Gran, of course." Neville looked more closely at the photo in the magazine. "I've never planned a garden that big."

"Maybe we can talk Professor Sprout into helping us. The three of us will have a blast."

"Am I invited?" Remus bent down and kissed her cheek. He had a tattered book in his hand, which he offered to her.

"You don't need an invitation. My home is always open to you." She thanked him for the book and lifted it to read the title. "Ooo, poetry, how romantic." Neville blushed and looked from Lupin to Lindsay. "Just teasing, Neville," said Lindsay. "You can relax. There's nothing to gossip about, I promise you."

Neville rose and handed Lindsay the magazine. "I've got to go anyway. I've got studying."

Remus smiled and his eyes twinkled with devilment. "That rumor will be all over the school within the hour."

"Neville's tightlipped, Remus. He won't say anything." She thumbed through the book, squinting a bit. "Thank you for this. I don't recognize any of the authors."

"They're not Muggles."

"Oh, well that explains the unfamiliar meter." She closed the book and set it down. "I'll have to read it later. The painkillers haven't worn off. My eyes are still a little blurry."

###

She visited Hagrid immediately after Madame Pomfrey released her. He was with the new Hippogriff. She climbed and sat on the wall of the animal's pen. Hagrid was trying to hand-feed him a dead ferret, but the Hippogriff stayed at the far end of the pen.

"Psst."

Hagrid turned; his first reaction was a bright-eyed smile, then his shoulders drooped as guilt crept into his face, and he cast his eyes to the ground. "I'm not upset with you, Hagrid. It could've happened to anyone. It was only a baby Acromantula, after all." She was at a perfect height to hug him.

"Still friends then?"

"The best," replied Lindsay with her trademark warm smile. Hagrid helped her down and offered her a dead ferret.

"Maybe you'll have better luck wi' 'im. He's not comin' 'round to me, that's fer sure."

The animal was cleaner, but still a dark grey color. His wounds were healing nicely, but he'd be heavily scarred for the remainder of his life. His wings were healed, but he refused to use them. He was still wild-eyed and thin despite regularly feeding. Lindsay approached slowly and bowed respectfully. The Hippogriff snorted and stamped the earth. Lindsay remained still; sweat was beginning to bead on her brow. The Hippogriff snorted again and trotted around her. He eyed her cautiously then unexpectedly bowed back. She handed him the ferret; he sniffed it, but didn't take it.

"Hagrid," said Ron as he and Harry leaned over the pen. "How's the new…?" The Hippogriff panicked and ran for them, trampling over Lindsay as he rushed at the boys.

"Down!" shouted Hagrid. The boys dropped behind the pen wall as the Hippogriff smashed into it. Hagrid chased it away and took Lindsay back to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was furious. "Angry Hippogriff," stammered Hagrid.

"Out!" shouted Pomfrey.

Lindsay had sustained broken ribs and would be released the following morning, but not until after a tongue-lashing from Madame Pomfrey for her carelessness. Immediately after Lindsay's reprimand, Professor McGonagall entered the room. Her lips were a thin line, and her eyes flashed in temper. Lindsay prepared herself for another round.

"Not out of the hospital wing a full hour before being readmitted. Well done, Miss Gray. I believe you've set a school record."

"It was an accident…."

"They always are. I suggest you be more cautious in the future, or I shall force precautions on you. Do I make myself clear, Miss Gray?"

"Yes, ma'am." McGonagall turned and left without further comment. "That is one scary woman," whispered Lindsay.

###

The following morning, Lindsay was out of bed and dressed before Madame Pomfrey even woke. She was unaccustomed to inactivity and disliked confinement. She was pacing the floor when Madame Pomfrey came to check on her.

"You're still bruised, Miss Gray, so you must curtail your activities. None of this running, and hiking, and dancing, and whatever other nonsense you get up to."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll take it easy. I promise." Lindsay turned to leave and was called back. Madame Pomfrey handed her a small jar of salve.

"Take this with you, unless you'd prefer the wounds on your legs to become scars."

Lindsay thanked Madame Pomfrey, pocketed the jar, and left to visit Hagrid. She found him feeding the Thestrals.

"What're yeh doin' out here? You should be restin'."

"I feel fine Hagrid. I'm stiff from lying in bed so much."

"Don't yeh touch nothin'. I can do this m'self."

"I won't. I'll just stand here and watch. Have you thought of a name for the Hippogriff?"

"Nope, can't get a feel fer his personality."

"What about something simple, like 'Stampy'?"

"That's a fittin' name" laughed Hagrid.

"Have you figured out where he came from?"

"Nope." Hagrid stood upright, his eyes burned with rage. He wrung his hands in temper. "But when I find out who abused 'im, he'll be a sorry wizard indeed." Lindsay had never seen Hagrid angry before, and hoped not to see it again. They talked for a bit longer and Hagrid's temper waned. He sent her back to the castle before she managed to get herself injured again. She sung softly to herself as she strolled back. She felt fine until she crossed the castle's threshold and a stitch stung at her side. She took a few more steps and the stitch turned into breath-stopping pain. She doubled over to catch her breath. She heard footsteps and looked to see Professor Snape scowling at her.

"Perfect timing as always, Professor. Do you mind if I lean on you a bit?" Snape hadn't expected such a request, or the friendly tone that was used to speak it. Lindsay interpreted his hesitation as assent and reached her arm around his shoulder after moving his long greasy hair out of the way. "It really hurts when someone leans on your hair, doesn't it?" Snape said nothing. Lindsay used her other hand to brace her ribs. Snape slipped his arm around her waist and gripped the hand that lay over his shoulder. Her hair was neatly braided. He inhaled the familiar light scent of gardenia. She was dressed more casually then when he'd first met her, but he thought she looked just as lovely.

Lindsay chatted away while Snape remained silent. "I felt fine until I got back to the castle. Sort of hit me without warning. Here we are. Thank you, Prof…."

Snape turned abruptly and left, leaving Lindsay standing in front of the Gryffindor common room. She entered and went straight to bed. She slept straight through dinner.

###

The door of the common room slid open and in walked the unwelcome figure of Professor Snape. Many of the younger students gasped and hid. The older ones remained in their places and glared at him with nervous contempt. His eyes locked onto Hermione. "Miss Granger," he snapped. Hermione dropped her book and stood before him. "Take me to Miss Gray."

"I think she's asleep, Sir."

"Now, Miss Granger."

Hermione stopped at Lindsay's door. "She's in here, Sir. Would you like me to…?"

"I would like you to be on your way, Miss Granger."

Lindsay lay on her uninjured side and, with some difficulty, had pulled her blankets up high around her face. The only part of her that was left visible was the very top of her head. She fell asleep quickly, and was still in the same position when she was startled awake by a blast of light in her room. She opened her bleary eyes to the menacing black form of Severus Snape standing next to her bed. He didn't waste time with a greeting. "You were not at dinner."

"I fell asleep," she croaked. Her throat was dry. She cleared it more forcefully than she had intended, and it hurt her still bruised ribs. As her eyes began to focus, she could see that he was carrying a moderately sized, dark blue bottle in his hand. He sat the bottle on her nightstand and leaned over her. "I brought liniment," he said as he began to lower her blankets. He stopped when the blankets were slightly below her shoulder as he realized that she wasn't wearing nightclothes. Lindsay saw a small amount of color rise in his cheeks. "Yeah, I don't like to wear those buttoned-up pj's that Madame Pomfrey puts on us-too restrictive, and I was too sore and tired to wrestle with a nightgown."

Snape suddenly looked unsure of himself and asked, "Would you prefer that I fetch Professor McGonagall?"

"It's okay, Professor. I can handle it. There's no privacy in hospitals, you know." He quickly yanked the blankets down, resting them on her hip. The color in his cheeks deepened. Lindsay wrapped her arms around her chest, but being so large busted only managed to partially cover herself. Snape, for his part, tried unsuccessfully to appear as though he wasn't looking. He popped the stopper off the blue bottle and poured the liniment on his hand. He set the bottle back down and rubbed his hands together, then turned silently to rub it on Lindsay's deeply bruised ribs. She gasped in pain as it felt like every muscle around her ribs suddenly spasmed. "It will only hurt for a moment." The pain eased before he completed the statement, and was gone as quickly as it had come. Lindsay was left with a very pleasant feeling of numbness and warmth.

"That's not what Madame Pomfrey uses."

"It's my own," replied Snape as he jerked the blankets back up around her shoulders.

"You should patent that stuff, Professor. It's fabulous." A proud smile appeared momentarily as he wiped his hands on his robes and re-stoppered the blue bottle. He turned and swiftly left without saying another word.

Lindsay rose and put on her dressing gown. "He's such an odd duck." She slowly stooped to gather up the clothes she'd left on the floor.

"I'll get that," rang Professor McGonagall's stern voice. "You sit." McGonagall waved her wand and a hot tea kettle and plate of food appeared. She waved her wand a second time and Lindsay's clothes rose up, folded themselves, and settled to rest on her trunk. "You missed dinner. I don't typically provide room service, but I thought it appropriate under the circumstances. Hagrid told me you visited him."

"I suppose I over did it."

"I suppose you did. Honestly, Miss Gray, if I didn't know better, I'd think you had a death wish. McGonagall noticed something odd not Lindsay's reaction, but in her lack of it. McGonagall gently put her hand on Lindsay's. Her voice was equally gentle. "You have friends here, Miss Gray, friends who will help you. You need but ask for it."

"Thank you, Professor. You are very kind and very perceptive. I may be too cavalier regarding my personal safety, but I assure you that I don't have a death wish." McGonagall wasn't convinced, but didn't pry. The girl had a right to her privacy. McGonagall poured a cup of tea for both of them. She hadn't intended to stay, but changed her mind in the hopes that her presence could be of some comfort. They talked for several hours and McGonagall was surprised to find that Lindsay was not an open book as she'd thought. Despite her honesty and loquaciousness, the girl kept much of herself and her life private.


	8. Chapter 8

Lindsay sat in the common room with Neville. They'd just finished breakfast and were going over the first set of plans that Neville had drawn up for Lindsay's garden.

"I thought we could put a water feature there, some sort of fountain or pond. If it's not too much of an expense."

"Don't worry about the expense, Neville. Go all out. I'm already excited about the shopping."

"You've got a note."

Lindsay plucked a lavender colored and scented paper airplane out of the air. It was from Dumbledore. "Gotta go, Neville. The Headmaster wants to see me." Lindsay arrived in the Headmaster's office with her violin under her arm. Dumbledore wore a set of ice blue robes with silver brocade. "New robes, Professor?"

"Yes, do you like them?"

"You're a vision of masculine loveliness, sir."

Dumbledore laughed and thanked her. His eyes twinkled with merriment. "You're very free with your compliments, Lindsay."

"Only when they're deserved."

"You've been doing very well manipulating objects. I think it's time we try something different. Do you know what apparition is?"

"Yes, but I hardly think I'm ready for it. The thought of splinching myself is a little unnerving."

"You'll do fine. We'll start with simple tasks. I want you to imagine yourself standing over there, on the other side of my desk. Can you do that? Good. Just stay relaxed and focus on that spot." Dumbledore's eyes widened. He hadn't expected this at all. There were now two of Lindsay standing in his office, each looking at the other and both looking solidly corporeal.

"Um, Professor?" said two identical frightened voices.

"Relax, Lindsay. All is well." Dumbledore approached the second Lindsay and passed his hand through her arm. "Did you feel that?" He asked the original Lindsay.

"Yes, you touched my arm."

To the second Lindsay, he asked, "Would you pass me that quill?" She reached her left hand, picked up the quill, and handed it to Dumbledore. "This is remarkable. I've never seen the like. You are a most uniquely gifted witch, Lindsay."

"How do I put myself back together?"

"The same way you bi-located; concentrate and you'll be whole again."

They practiced controlling the bi-location for nearly an hour. Once the fright of seeing a second version of herself had passed, Lindsay quickly grew adept at controlling a second body and processing its sensory stimuli. They ended the lesson, as they typically did, with Lindsay playing her violin. This time Dumbledore had requested Paganini Caprice #24. Dumbledore sat in his favorite chair with his eyes closed swaying slightly to the music. Lindsay stopped playing when she saw Snape enter the room.

"Do forgive me, Severus. I was lost in the melody. Lindsay, I hope you don't mind, but we'll have to continue at another time."

"Not at all, Professor." She packed up her violin, said her goodbyes, and left the Headmaster's office. Lindsay rejoined Neville, and the two set about weeding some of the gardens. Neville pointed out and explained the names and uses for a large variety of plants. Lindsay listened quietly as Neville chattered away about the diseases the plants were susceptible too, and which insects and animals were attracted to them. He described how differently each plant looked at different times of the year and how they were often confused with other plants. Both were wearing tall rubber boots and sloshed through ankle-deep water. Lindsay spied a large green toad sitting on rock. "Look, Neville, there's a toad. That's not Trevor, is it?" She reached out to move it.

"Don't!" shouted Neville, but it was too late. The toad had spit a dart into the bicep of her left arm before disappearing under the water. Lindsay's face went slack, and she slowly fell backwards into the water. Neville held her head above the water and pulled out his wand, which he promptly dropped. He splashed and searched in a near panic. He seized his wand, turned it around to hold the hilt, pointed it to the sky, and shouted, "Periculum!"

Lindsay woke with a blinding headache. She tried to sit up, but was gently pushed back down. She lifted her hand to her head and a tremendous pain shot through her arm. She focused her eyes to see that her arm was quite black all the way from her fingertips to her shoulder. It was then that she realized she was in the hospital wing. "What happened?"

"According to Mr. Longbottom, you were stung by a poison-dart toad. Honestly, Miss Gray, you really must learn to let the wildlife alone."

Lindsay was released in the morning after yet another stern warning from Madame Pomfrey. Her arm was now a dark purplish color, but totally usable. She'd slept off the headache. She returned to her rooms and was greeted by Ron and Harry. Ron was seated at the table eating, and Harry was looking through Lindsay's drawings. "I'm really sorry for scaring that Hippogriff. I didn't know you were in there with it."

"Don't worry about it, Ron. It was an accident. Have either of you seen Neville? He usually visits me in the hospital wing."

"McGonagall gave him detention with Filch," replied Ron.

"For carelessness over the toad," added Harry.

"I'll have to apologize to him, and have a word with Professor McGonagall. Do you know how the Hippogriff is doing?"

"We haven't been back," answered Harry. "Your drawings are good. I like the one where Professor Sprout has dirt on her nose. That's a good one of Hermione too."

"Thank you, I'm still working on them. I plan on using them as bases for oil paintings. I'm just going to get washed up and changed. I want to see how Hagrid's getting along with his new Hippogriff."

"Glutton for punishment," said Harry. "You done eating yet, Ron?"

The gate to Stampy's pen was open when Lindsay arrived. It wasn't like Hagrid to be so remiss, and Lindsay wondered if he'd been injured. She approached very cautiously. Years of dance training had made her surefooted and silent. As it turns out, the caution was unnecessary. Stampy was still in his pen, but he'd been rendered harmless. Hagrid stood over his body sobbing into his hankie. Dumbledore, the only other person present, turned to greet Lindsay as she approached. "You're looking well."

"Thank you, Professor, I feel well. What happened?"

"I'm afraid the poor creature just couldn't hang on any longer. He expired only moments ago. Hagrid called on me, but I wasn't able to help."

Hagrid wailed; it was such a mournful piteous sound that it brought tears to Lindsay's eyes. "I'll jus' go and get a spade then." Hagrid wiped his eyes on his forearm and trudged back to his hut.

Dumbledore watched him leave, waiting until he was out of earshot. Lindsay's eyes moved from Dumbledore to the dead Hippogriff and back again. She was hesitant. Dumbledore's eyes shimmered as they caught hers. "Do it, Lindsay. Try it before Hagrid returns."

Lindsay stepped forward and knelt beside Stampy. She placed one hand on the animal's breastbone and the other on his ribcage. His body was still warm. She focused her attention on his chest; her hands were encircled in a faint blue light. "I hear voices, Headmaster. They're distant, but I…."

"Stay focused." Dumbledore moved closer and studied her face. She closed her eyes tightly and appeared to be listening intently to something he couldn't hear.

Lindsay opened her eyes. "Stand back, sir." Dumbledore stepped back two paces. His eyes widened a little when the Hippogriff's body twitched slightly. "Not strong enough," mumbled Lindsay. She repositioned her hands, raising one slightly and lowering the other. Her brow furrowed and the blue light became more intense. The Hippogriff's body jumped, a foot twitched then a wing. Lindsay took her hands away and moved back. The animal took a great deep breath, opened his eyes, and sat up. He looked first to Dumbledore then to Lindsay and bowed his head. He lay down with his head on his forelegs and rested.

"Ah, Hagrid," said Dumbledore as calmly as could be. "It seems to have been a false alarm. The animal was just in a very deep sleep."

Hagrid dropped his spade and stared in disbelief. "It can' be. I checked 'im mehself."

"Well, we all make mistakes. But he does appear a bit under the weather. Perhaps a few dead ferrets will brighten him up. Lindsay, if you wouldn't mind escorting me back to the castle." Lindsay patted Hagrid's arm as she passed him, and locked the gate behind her as she and Dumbledore exited the pen. She hooked her arm in the Headmaster's and they walked slowly back to the castle. "Tell me what you heard."

"It was jumble of voices, some human and some I couldn't identify. It's hard to explain. It's like putting on a blindfold and walking through a crowd of people who are all talking at once, and finding a familiar person by voice alone. The more I focused, the louder one voice became. Well, I thought it was a voice at first, but it was more like feeling."

"A feeling? Like a touch?"

"It was emotion used as language. I felt what Stampy felt, and I understood what he was telling me. It seemed like both feeling and sound while it was happening, but now that I think on it…."

"Don't over-analyze, you'll only muddle things up. Some things must be accepted as they are. Now tell me what you did to make the body jump."

"Oh, that was the easiest part of it all. Once I convinced Stampy that Hagrid wouldn't hurt him, he agreed to come back. I just used defibrillation to restart his heart. Muggle doctors use medical tools to do it. It's just a jolt of electricity that gets the heart pumping again."

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. He stopped walking and tilted his head down to look Lindsay in the eyes. "Tell me, what would you have done if Stampy had refused to return with you?"

"I don't know; nothing, I suppose. I guess I would've helped Hagrid bury him."

Dumbledore's voice became uncharacteristically stern. "Listen carefully. You have a tremendous gift and like all gifts, it can be abused and done so in the most horrific ways—ways that you have yet to discover. Resurrecting the dead is part of Necromancy, one of the darkest forms of magic." Lindsay went pale. "Don't misunderstand me. What you did was not dark; you healed a damaged soul, which is as far from Dark Magic as one can get. There are witches and wizards who study for decades to learn how to do what you just did naturally. You will be of great interest to those with dark ambitions. I must ask you to keep your abilities to yourself—for your own safety. Secrets can't be kept forever, but for now it would best if you didn't tell anyone."

"Alright, I'll do as you say."

Dumbledore resumed walking. "The uniqueness of your ability defies categorization. Compared to the average witch, your abilities are modest and yet you just performed magic that requires a great deal of skill. You are a paradox, Lindsay—a very pleasant one, however. Hmm, a thought has just occurred to me. How does a nice big slice of pie sound?"

"It sounds delicious."

###

Lindsay dined with Remus in his quarters. He'd been ill again and was still recovering. He moved away from his small dining table and sat in a large overstuffed armchair wrapped in a shabby brown dressing gown. Lindsay was fussing over him, wrapping a blanket around his feet and legs.

"Stop hovering, Lin. I'm fine."

"You look awful."

"I'm just tired." Lindsay stopped fussing and moved to the table to clean up the dishes. "There's an easier way to do that."

"It's just habit, I guess."

"Come and sit. The house-elves will tidy up." Lindsay took the chair opposite him. "You look preoccupied. What's bothering you?"

"I'm disturbed by something I was reading. Is Necromancy actually real?"

"That is very advanced stuff; too advanced for you, but, yes, it's real."

"I just don't understand this idea of Dark Magic. Moving objects is easily explained. It's telekinesis, applied kinetic energy…."

"Ugh, Muggle terms again."

"It's the only way I can relate, Remus. Even transfiguration can be explained scientifically—if I try hard enough. Much of what I understand of the Dark Arts is similar to the magic I see people performing every day. How do you know the difference?"

"Regarding the less complex forms of Dark Magic, much of the difference lies in the intent of the witch or wizard performing it. Let's use the Imperius Curse as an example. As you know, it's one of the Unforgiveables because its ability for misuse is so profound. But let's assume one were to use that curse just long enough to prevent a person from harming herself or someone else. The spell is dark, but in this example, its use wasn't. It's a grey area to be sure, but the curse was used with good intentions. That, however, doesn't make one exempt from issues regarding the legality of casting the curse."

"Alright, so application can affect spell classification—at least in terms of moral issues. But what about the more advanced stuff, is it strictly dark, and what makes it so?"

"I don't teach Dark Magic, Lin. I teach defense against it."

"I hate it when you're evasive, Remus."

"I know, but you must admit that I'm quite good at it."

###

Lindsay bypassed the Gryffindor common room. She took a separate staircase that led to her rooms. An unpleasant smell of something burning assaulted her nostrils when the suit of armor that guarded the entrance to the hallway moved aside. She stepped past the guard. The hallway floor was covered in low-lying black smoke. The same black smoke was billowing out from under her door. She touched the knob to see if it was hot, it wasn't. She heard two identical male voices talking and laughing on the other side of it. It was undoubtedly the Weasley twins again. Without a word, Lindsay turned and headed for the kitchens to get a cup of coffee. It was probably going to be a long night, and she had no intentions of being anywhere near Professor McGonagall when she discovered whatever it was the twins were up to.

After twenty or so minutes of wandering the castle, Lindsay found herself in the dungeons, a part of the castle she rarely visited. She'd allowed her mind to wander and paid little attention as to which direction she walked. She heard a terrible racket coming from Snape's office and picked up her pace to investigate it. She entered just as Snape was upending a heavy wooden table with his bare hands. There were several glass jars lying broken on the floor. She noticed some light-blue goo oozing toward her and stepped out of the way before it reached her feet. Snape whirled around suddenly, his black robes flowing around him, and stopped in his place with a ferocious look on his face. He'd thought he was alone and was momentarily startled by her presence.

"Temper tantrums are so cathartic, aren't they? It's like when you're sick and have to vomit, but you try to hold it in because there are people watching and it's embarrassing. Letting it out is good; holding it in is bad. I prefer to punch a heavy bag though-I don't like to make a mess-but whatever works for you."

"Get out!"

"No, I can't do that," said Lindsay as she sipped her coffee.

"Get out you imbecile, or I'll throw you out!" roared Snape.

Lindsay looked him in the eyes and sighed. "Wow, that was really hurtful, Professor. But this is good; we're getting the negative feelings out in the open. It's always best to talk things through especially since we never worked out that last angry outburst when you threw me out." She took another sip of her coffee. Snape flicked his wand and the coffee cup flew out of her hand and smashed against the dungeon wall. Her eyes followed the smashed cup. "Hmm, I was really enjoying that too, but it is very late to be drinking coffee." She turned back to meet Snape's eyes. "Am I supposed to cry now, or were you expecting fear? I hate to disappoint you, but I don't cry easily and as for fear…well, let's just say that I've encountered far more frightening things than you."

"Get out this instant," growled Snape as he rushed toward her and grabbed her wrist. She twisted and locked his wrist. He winced as his grip was pried away and stepped back from her. "Your wizardly gifts may be superior to mine, Professor, but I'm no petite weakling. My body is strong and I know how to use it."

Snape pressed his fingers into his temples. He was trying to restrain his temper enough to keep from hexing her, but she continued to press him. His faced turned oddly pale and appeared marble-like. Lindsay saw the change, but ignored it. "I'm not such a fool, you know. I read people well. I know you're deliberately trying to make me hate you. Well, it's not working; I don't hate you. I don't even dislike you, but you do get under my skin sometimes. I'll grant you that much."

"A moving speech, is my heart to be warmed by that fact that you like me?"

"I never said that I liked you. I haven't decided that yet."

"Do inform me when you've made up your mind. I shall be most anxious to learn the verdict."

"You think you're all hidden in your buttoned-up blackness. You're not such a great mystery, you know. You're nasty because you think you can't have me. You think I'm too far out of your league, which, of course, I am-and don't think for a second that I'm not fully aware of it." Snape's face flushed an ugly dark red and the veins in temples began to pulse. "Well, that hit a nerve, didn't it?" said Lindsay, her smile broadening. "See, I can be hurtful too. But if you really fancy a game of verbal tag, I can play all night, and I can cut just as deeply as you."

Snape drew his wand in a rage with the full intent of hexing her, but as soon as the energy was expelled it shot back at him. He was knocked violently off his feet and landed hard on the dungeon floor. "Oops," said Lindsay. She looked indifferently at him as he glared at her from the floor. "Sorry, Professor, that happens involuntarily. You might want to think twice before hexing me again." She stepped toward him and bent down, speaking softly. "I don't want to fight with you, and I don't want to be your best friend. I just want to get along. Can we do that…please?" She stood and extended her hand. Her calm jovial demeanor had a similar effect on him as an ice bath. He sat on the floor breathing heavily and feeling foolish. He hesitated before taking her hand. Once upright, he flicked his wand and the room began to right itself.

"What did you do?" asked Snape huffily.

"I don't know. That's why I'm here, so people like you can explain it to me. I promised the Headmaster that I'd keep that ability to myself. I feel badly about that; I like to keep my word. So… you want to get some ice cream?" He frowned and stared at her like she'd just said something incomprehensible. He stashed his wand in his pocket. Lindsay left the room fully expecting the door to be slammed shut behind her, but was astonished to find that he chose to accompany her—and at a reasonable pace instead of his usual hurried stalking stride.

"Would you care to explain to me what you're doing in the dungeons at this hour?"

"The Weasley twins blew up my rooms again." Snape's head turned toward her. He didn't need to say anything as the question was clearly written on his face. "I've learned not to ask. I saw black smoke coming from under the door so I just left. I'd rather not be around when Professor McGonagall finds out, so I took to aimlessly wandering the castle. I heard the commotion in your office and thought it was Peeves, otherwise I wouldn't have bothered you."

"And if it had been Peeves?"

"I didn't think that far ahead."

"Clearly," said Snape.

"I feel compelled to point out the fact-just in case you didn't notice-that I didn't ask what was bothering you…" Snape stopped and glared at her. "…and I don't intend to,butif you're ever in the mood to share, I'm all ears."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Snape and resumed his pace.

"Did you hear about Black brandishing a knife at poor Ron Weasley?"

"I did," said Snape.

"I can't imagine how he's getting in with all the security here."

"It is a mystery, and one that you should take more seriously. Walking about the castle unescorted isn't wise."

"An escaped convict wouldn't have any interest in me; I talk too much. He'd get caught like that." Lindsay snapped her fingers. "I haven't had ice cream in ages. Double fudge sounds good or maybe butter almond. You'll tell me if I get almonds stuck in my teeth, won't you? I hate when that happens and no one says anything. So what's your favorite flavor?"

"I don't have one."

"I know what you mean. There are so many good ones, how do you pick just one?"

The house-elves instantly became a blur of commotion and filled the kitchen with noisy chatter when they saw Lindsay enter. The noise and commotion halted as soon as Snape entered behind her. They sat at a small table facing each other. Lindsay had a large bowl of various flavors of ice cream, some she'd never tried before. Snape had a single scoop of vanilla that sat untouched and melting in front of him.

"Don't get sick on all that ice cream, Professor."

Snape scowled as he eyed her, looking mildly irritated, which Lindsay interpreted as his version of a good mood. Then his expression softened and a small devilish smirk appeared as though something had just occurred to him. His eyes glittered as he spoke. "So how are you enjoying the Gryffindors?"

"They're an excitable bunch, but nice kids for the most part."

"Excitable is a polite way of describing them. I've always thought of them as an unruly bunch of rabble-rousers."

"That's a bit harsh, Professor."

"You haven't dealt with them as long as I…unless, perhaps, you are of a like mind."

Lindsay set down her spoon and made deliberate eye contact as she spoke. "Thank you for the unintentional compliment, Professor. I have grown beyond a teenage mentality, but it's nice to know I haven't visibly aged." Snape didn't hear what he wanted, but he definitely saw an answer in her eyes that pleased him very much. They had tea after Lindsay finished her ice cream, which Snape actually drank. They exchanged a little small talk, and Snape walked her back to her rooms.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Lindsay found herself in the increasingly familiar company of Jackson. He was seated next to her with his arm slung across her shoulder, an action that was quickly becoming a habit. He'd forgone his own homework under the pretense of helping Lindsay with her Charms and Transfiguration essays, which she didn't need and hadn't asked for. He slid his arm a little further down her shoulder and she rose. Her intention wasn't made clear to him though, as at the same time Lindsay rose, her door opened with a bang and was accompanied by disgruntled shouting from Wately as he entered and paced the room in a temper. Wately was another sixth year student and Jackson's best friend. They were of equal height, slightly above average. Wately's stocky frame contrasted sharply with Jackson's much leaner build.

"He caught me! I can't believe it! Two years I've managed to slip him, and he caught me!"

"What are you going on about?"

Wately stopped pacing and answered his friend as calmly as he could manage. "Snape caught me and took my mags. I've got detention with Filch for the next month."

"It's bad luck, mate, but you knew it was bound to happen sooner or later," said Jackson

A paper airplane arrived for Lindsay as the boys were speaking. "Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I've got to go." Lindsay grabbed her violin and bag.

"Dumbledore again?" said Jackson.

"No, Snape."

Jackson tried to offer more encouraging words to his friend, but Wately wasn't listening. He silently watched Lindsay leave the room. "Don't you think that's odd?"

"What?"

"She never takes her violin with her when she sees the Git."

Jackson reached for the letter Lindsay had laid on the coffee table. "He told her to."

"Let me see that."

"That's all it says, Tom."

Wately read the note aloud. "_Come to my office. Bring your violin. ~ Professor Snape. _Don't you think that's a bit odd, John?"

"No, sometimes she goes to the teachers' offices for theoretical lessons. She goes to their private rooms sometimes too. I know she's been in McGonagall's and Lupin's rooms a few times."

"But this isn't McGonagall or Lupin we're talking about here. It's the Greasy Git. The only place he invites anyone is to detention." Wately balled up the letter and flung it into the fire.

###

Lindsay raised her hand to knock on Snape's office door and was told to enter before her knuckles rapped the wood. "It's amazing how he does that." She entered into a cold, stark, dimly lit room that was piled from floor to ceiling with potions and potions ingredients. "Someone's been a busy little beaver." There was no decoration in the room, no hint of the man's personality. There weren't any pictures or keepsakes that usually adorn a person's desk. Snape was seated behind his desk grading student essays. He set aside his quill and stood as Lindsay entered the room. "Are we brewing in here, Professor? Seems a little cramped for that."

"No, this isn't a lesson. I," Snape hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "I merely wished to hear you play."

Lindsay set her bag on the floor and placed her violin case on a nearby table, the same table that she'd watched Snape upend a few nights before. "I don't need much encouragement to play. I've always been a music lover. Oh, dear, it looks like Fred broke a string and forgot to tell me. You don't mind while I restring this, do you?"

"Not at all." There were two leather-bound chairs in front of Snape's desk set for visitors. He turned one around to face Lindsay.

"I'm feeling a bit bold tonight, Professor, so I'd like to ask you something. Would you mind sitting for me sometime?"

Snape gathered his robes about him and sat upon the chair in such a theatrically elegant way that Lindsay burst into laughter. Snape was expressionless. "You do know what I mean, right?"

"I do. I'll let you know when I have the time. Where would you have me sit?"

"My rooms would be the most convenient. I have all my art supplies set up there." She turned back to her violin and began removing the broken string. Snape's presence didn't unnerve her, nor was she bothered by his obsessive studying of her, but his near perpetual silence was oddly unsettling. Lindsay knew many people who weren't talkers, and their frequent silence never bothered her. There was something different about Snape's unobtrusiveness; the silence from him was so much like an unpleasantly pregnant pause that it made her uncomfortable. She began to prattle.

"I've had this violin since I was twelve. It was a birthday present from my parents. I'd started with a child-sized one that had been my sister's. My parents wanted to get me something new and expensive; they thought that would make it special. I saw this in a bookstore, of all places. My mother was friendly with the owner, who'd found the violin in her attic. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to have it. It needed a little work, but it played well. It's got scratches and dings and it's worn from use, but those things just give it character. I wonder sometimes about all the hands that have played it. I think of all the fumbling mistakes and all the proud moments when a piece has been learned and played perfectly. All that history is much more special than something shiny and new."

Snape stared at her in silence. Lindsay wondered if he'd listened at all.

"Is there something specific that you'd like to hear?"

"The piece you played for the Headmaster."

"Ah, you're a man of discerning taste, Professor. Paganini isn't easy to play."

Snape observed her as she played. His supposition had been correct. The more she focused on the music, the easier it was to enter her mind. She looked at the violin and not him, but he had a good enough view of her eyes to see some of her thoughts. He was very careful not to penetrate her mind too deeply for fear of triggering her natural defense mechanism. His snooping had to be subtle or he'd risk alerting her photographic recall to his covert shenanigans. The fact that she had an eidetic memory made it that much easier for him. Her thoughts were clear, well arranged, and easily triggered by indirect visual stimuli. Something as simple as holding a magazine or charming a streak of Weasley-red into his hair would make thoughts flash through her mind. He was overwhelmed by the vast amount of information her mind could hold at one time, and had to choose his prompts carefully. Information would rush by so quickly that he had difficulty grabbing useful material. He was so pleased with his goldmine of information that he requested she play for him several nights a week. Not surprisingly, the amount of detentions given to rule-breaking students increased dramatically, particularly for Gryffindors.

###

Lindsay Entered the Gryffindor common room with her violin case tucked under her arm as usual. Hermione, who was sitting in front of the fire with an open book on her knee, noticed the puzzled look on her face immediately. Ginny was sitting next to Hermione, relaxing as she stared blankly into the fire. Ron and Harry were sprawled on the couch next to them with unopened textbooks in their laps, talking about Quidditch. "Is everything alright?" Lindsay didn't respond immediately so Hermione repeated the question more loudly.

"Oh, sorry, uh…yeah everything's fine." She stopped and knelt in front of the fire and looked up at Hermione and Ginny. "It's just a little odd," she said quietly. "He's asked me to play the same piece every single time, but tonight he asked me to play something soft."

"Whose piece went soft?" shouted George, who seemed to appear from nowhere with Fred at his side. Many of the Gryffindors snickered, but some were looking ill-at-ease.

"Oh, you're disgusting!" shouted Hermione, slapping her hands down on her textbook as Fred and George neared the couch. Ginny brought her hand up to cover an uncontrollable smile. Harry and Ron laughed aloud and made no attempt to hide the fact.

"You're absolutely right, Granger," said Fred in mock disgust, his elbows resting on the back of Harry and Ron's couch. George was a mirror image standing next to him. "The idea of Lindsay and Snape in a passionate embrace is just absurd. As greasy as he is, he'd just slide right off of her."

Lindsay, good-natured as usual, stood up smiling ready to retort, but was beaten to it by a very disgruntled-looking Jackson. "Fred and George may seem like they're joking, but they're really just saying what we're all thinking."

"Speak for yourself, Jackson," answered Fred.

"We really are just joking," added George.

Lindsay looked both puzzled and hurt as she rounded the couch to stand in front of Jackson, effectively placing herself between him and Fred. "What are you talking about?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," spat Jackson. "You're always with him. It's unnatural."

"If by _'him'_ you mean Professor Snape, I don't understand what the problem is. He sent for me. You were here; you saw that. And I've been honest with all of you about what happens. I play my violin for him, that's it. I regularly do the same for Dumbledore."

"But this is _Snape_ we're talking about," said Jackson as if the mere mention of the name was suitably explanatory. Several of the students muttered encouragement, and Jackson looked around to see who was on his side. His confidence was greatly bolstered by the many heads nodding in agreement with him. "Nobody likes him. Even his Slytherins hate him. They're just too afraid of him to admit it. And yet _you_ spend an inordinate amount of time with him. Why is that?"

"I spend more time with Hagrid than anyone. A lot of the students spend time with the professors. Neville's with Professor Sprout right now. Are you going to accuse them of something illicit too?" answered Lindsay.

"It's not just us. People in the other houses are saying it too, even some of the Slytherins."

"Exactly what are people saying, Jackson?" asked Fred in an uncharacteristically icy tone. Both he and George had a rising flush of red in their cheeks and ears. The common room suddenly became eerily silent. Fred stepped a little closer to Jackson and rested his hand on Lindsay's shoulder. Jackson looked from Fred to George, apparently unwilling to fully engage the angry twins. Wately rose from the table where he and Jackson had been playing a game to stand next to his friend, and directly in front of George. Other Gryffindors were beginning to hedge closer. Harry and Ron were off the couch and standing behind the twins. Hermione and Ginny hadn't left their places, but were no longer seated.

"She's spying for Snape," blurted Wately.

"_Spying?_" said Lindsay. "That's silly. What could I possibly be spying about?"

"All I know is that I got caught in the greenhouse with my mags. Now I've got detention with Filch every night."

"Everyone knows you read your pornos in the greenhouses, Wately," said George.

"But Snape didn't! Not until _she_ told him!"

Jackson turned to look at George. "You can't tell me that you haven't noticed an increase in the amount of detentions Snape's been giving us."

###

Professor McGonagall was seated at a small table with a cup of tea and some biscuits. She was reading the newspaper. Her hair was down in a long braid, but she hadn't yet changed into her night clothes. She looked away from her paper to listen to the raised voices coming from the common room. Raised voices and sudden loud noises were familiar occurrences as her Gryffindors were easily excited. The natural excitability of her Gryffindors had become particularly volatile since the arrival of the Weasley twins at Hogwarts. She waited a moment, expecting her students to regain their composure. When the raised voices turned to full-on shouting, she slammed her newspaper onto the table in irritation and rose to quell the commotion, fully expecting the twins to be at the heart of it.

###

"We're all Gryffindors here," shouted Fred and George in unison.

"_She's_ not; she was never sorted!" retorted Jackson.

"Well, she stays in Gryffindor Tower. That's good enough for us," replied the twins.

"Please, guys," pleaded Lindsay, "I promise you, I'm not spying on you and there's nothing going on between Professor Snape and me."

"_Right_," said Jackson snidely.

Wately quickly followed up with, "Oh, come on, we've all seen him watching you. When Snape's not looking at your arse, he's staring at your tits!" Just as soon as the sentence was given life, the balled fist of George's right hand smashed down onto Wately's chin. Fred shoved Lindsay out of the way as he lurched for Jackson. She landed hard on the floor. Jackson's left hand shot out and caught Fred's shoulder, stopping his forward momentum. Jackson's right hand was balled into a fist and raised in the air ready to launch, but Fred brought his right hand up to break Jackson's hold on him and threw his left hand into Jackson's stomach. A Large 7th year boy rushed at George and wrapped his arms around his waist, knocking him to the floor on top of Fred. In the blink of an eye, every occupant of the common room was in pile, wrestling on the floor. The younger students, who had already gone to bed, had begun to gather on the dormitory stairs to see what all the commotion was.

No one saw or heard McGonagall enter the common room, nor did they hear her shout at them until she drew her wand, which she pointed at her throat. "Sonorus._ STOP THIS! STOP THIS AT ONCE!" _Her voice thundered and everyone froze in their places. The room instantly became as quiet as a crypt. The younger students turned and bolted back up the stairs to their dormitories. "Quietus." McGonagall lowered her wand and silently surveyed the students, taking note of all the blackened eyes, swollen lips, and bloodied noses. She stared in disbelief as Hermione Granger rose from the floor. Hermione's hair stood on end; she was rubbing the back of her head where someone had pulled out a great patch of it. Ginny Weasley stood next to her with a bloodied lip that was dripping onto her shirt.

"What is the meaning of all this?" She looked from one face to the next, but they all dropped their heads and refused to answer. "Rest assured that I will get to the bottom of this, and you will all be severely punished for this egregious display. I have never seen such appalling behavior!" McGonagall's voice was icy and quavered with rage. "Fighting with members of your own house, I'm ashamed of all of you!" And there began the most vicious, and quite possibly the longest, tirade of Minerva McGonagall's teaching career. Every person in that room wished that she would just beat them, or hex them, or do anything else, just as long as she stopped yelling at them. "Two-hundred points from Gryffindor!" She stormed out of the common room toward her private quarters as Neville Longbottom entered. His features changed from good-humored to perplexed as his eyes took in the destruction. "What's happened?"

"Ugh, Neville!" snorted Hermione as she turned and stormed up to her dormitory.

"What?"

McGonagall began investigations in the morning. No one was sure who talked, but someone certainly had told her something. She took the news to the Headmaster. "I'm very concerned, Albus. There's a great deal of animosity brewing among the students regarding Miss Gray. I don't understand it. The only ones that don't seem to be bothered are the youngest students and the more hormonally driven boys."

"What has brought on this sudden change, Minerva? I was under the impression that Miss Gray was generally thought to be quite amiable."

"Apparently," began McGonagall, shooting a piercing gaze at Snape, "some of the students think that Miss Gray has been spying on them for Severus."

"Preposterous," murmured Snape.

"How does Miss Gray feel about this?"

"Well, she's obviously upset, but she's been quite clear about wanting to continue her studies."

"Good," said Dumbledore, looking relieved. He turned from them, sat down behind his desk and picked up a magazine. "Let us see that this animosity doesn't grow any further. Otherwise we'll continue as usual."

"Very good," said McGonagall as she turned and left.

"Anything else, Headmaster?" said Snape.

"No, I don't think so," said Dumbledore as he raised his magazine and began thumbing through it. "Oh, Severus…there is one more thing," Dumbledore lowered his magazine enough to peer over the top of it. "Stop spying on the Gryffindors."


	10. Chapter 10

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and the twins sat closely together in the common room discussing the cause of the tension among the Gryffindors.

"I don't believe it," said Neville. "Lindsay would never turn on us."

"Fred and I don't believe it either."

"It is rather odd," began Hermione. Six pairs of eyes narrowed slightly as they looked at her. "I'm not taking Jackson's side. I'm just stating the obvious. It's odd how much time she spends with Snape. It could be perceived as suspicious, especially with the drastic rise in detentions everyone's been getting."

"Filch caught Ron and I going to the kitchens and Lindsay covered for us."

"We never got in trouble, so she mustn't have told anyone," said Ron.

"If she was going to turn spy," said Ginny, "that would've been the perfect opportunity."

"Not really," said Hermione. "If I were a spy, I wouldn't want anyone to find out. If I'd caught Ron and Harry, and they got in trouble later, it would be obvious who told. It would have to be me as I would've been the only witness, other than Filch."

"So what are you saying, Granger?" said Fred.

"Are you for or against?" said George.

"Neither really, there aren't enough facts."

"Well, I like her," stated Ginny.

"I like her too," said Hermione, "and I'm not blaming her. I'm just saying that something peculiar is going on."

"George and I are going to fetch her. She needs to stop avoiding the common room."

Twenty minutes later the twins re-entered the common room, dragging Lindsay by her arms. "This is a mistake, guys."

"Nonsense," said George.

"Everyone misses you," said Fred.

"Not everyone." Numerous hate-filled glares turned in Lindsay's direction. The twins stared back, challenging anyone to speak. Many of the students rose and went to their dormitories. The tension in the air was thick. Fred and George plopped her down in a chair next to Neville. "I promise all of you that I'm not spying…."

"We believe you," said Neville.

"All of us," said George.

The common room was now mostly full of younger students as many of the older ones preferred the privacy of their dormitories rather than be in Lindsay's company. There were a few older students who approached her to state their belief that Snape had set her up, and that they had no hard feelings toward her. This prompted a lively exchange of theories among the small group of supporters as to how Snape had managed to catch so many students, and what might be his ultimate goal.

"Where did Fred and George go?" said Ron. "They were just here a minute ago. Did you see them, Ginny?"

"No, I wasn't paying attention."

Lindsay was facing the direction of the hallway that led to her rooms, so she was one of the first to see the menacing black form of the Potions Master silently enter the common room. Many of the students dashed to the safety of their dormitories. Others hesitated, unable to decide whether to run or hide. Lindsay's attention was immediately drawn to a fleeting expression on Snape's face. A mischievous twinkle glinted in his dark eyes, and was accompanied by a short-lived devilish grin. She finally saw his moment.

"Miss Gray, I've come to sit for you."

"That's wonderful, Professor. Excuse me, everyone, I have some sketching to do." Lindsay's excitement was obvious. She made no attempt to hide it, but some observers found it a bit disconcerting.

"That wasn't suspicious in the least," remarked Hermione as the two adults left the common room.

###

"I hope tea is acceptable, Professor. I'm not a drinker, so I don't keep alcohol in."

"Tea is fine," replied Snape.

Lindsay moved to her kitchenette. "Make yourself at home…did you hear that?" She went to her bedroom door, which was open. She never left it open. "Anyone in there?"

Two werewolves jumped out at her, growling and snarling. Lindsay yelled and jumped away. She felt herself being jerked backwards by a pincer-like grip on her arm. Snape stood in front of her. His wand was drawn and aimed.

Both werewolves raised their hands above their heads. "Don't shoot! It's us, Fred and George!"

Lindsay laughed hysterically. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"That was the idea," said Fred. Lindsay pulled at Fred's snout. "Ow!"

"Is that your skin?"

"Of course," answered Fred. "What good is a costume that comes off?"

"They look so realistic," said Lindsay.

"We haven't perfected them yet," replied George, "but we're nearly there."

Snape holstered his wand, looking greatly relieved. "Out! You'll both be seeing Filch tomorrow evening. Twenty points each from Gryffindor for endangering the safety of others…and yourselves."

The twins left in single file, dropping white feathers as they went. Their fronts were near perfect replicas of werewolves, but the backs of their costumes looked like ducks.

"You're dropping feathers, Fred."

"I'm molting, George."

"Those are two more reasons why I don't keep alcohol in here. They didn't mean any harm, Professor. They were just having some fun."

"I could have injured them quite badly as could anyone else with a wand and good reflexes."

It wasn't Lindsay's place to challenge Snape's authority, so she let the matter rest. She rubbed her right arm. "You have a surprisingly strong grip, Professor."

"I apologize if I've injured you. I can come back another time."

"No need to apologize. I can handle a bruise. I'm left-handed anyway, so it's not a problem. If you would sit there next to my easel, we can get started." Lindsay moved to her desk to get her sketchpad. She stooped to pick up a soft, yellow, baby blanket from the floor. A plant, hopping along in its pot, rushed out from the dark space between her desk and the wall, and bit at her hands. "Did you drop your blankie, Herbie?" She put the blanket over the nasty plant's head. "Night-night, Herbie, night-night." It hopped back into the corner and pulled the blanket around itself. She turned back to Snape who was scowling. "Neville brought him in. The bigger plants were picking on him. He'll be able to go back when he's done teething. He's growing so quickly-eats coffee grounds like there's no tomorrow. He'll go to sleep if I sing to him. You don't mind, do you?"

Snape didn't reply. Lindsay began to softly sing a lullaby as she set up her easel and pencils. She looked at Snape and rose to position his face. He hadn't expected that she'd be touching him. She pushed his hair behind his ears and turned his head. She stepped back, observed his features, and then repositioned him. She did this several times before sitting in front of her easel. All the contact made him very uncomfortable, and he resisted the urge to scratch his suddenly itchy face. She finished singing the lullaby and immediately carried on singing something else. Snape didn't recognize the lyrics, but it sounded like the melody she'd played for him a few nights ago. He'd had a headache then, and asked her to play something softer than the Paganini piece she usually played for him. She had a lovely singing voice.

He thought her habit of blathering to him was annoying, but he now found himself wishing she'd speak to him. Singing to him made him uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't identify. He began to sweat. Lindsay apparently had quite good peripheral vision as her eyes rarely left his face. She'd never observed him so intensely before, and he didn't like it at all.

Lindsay abruptly stopped singing and set down her pencil. She rose and approached him, pulling a white handkerchief from her pocket to pat his face. "It's unnerving to be scrutinized, isn't it, Professor?"

He turned away from her and wiped his face with is sleeve. "Do you have what you need, Miss Gray?"

"Yes, thank you…." Snape rose and quickly left. He passed Dumbledore, who entered as Snape left. "He has the most unusual personality. I don't know what to make of him."

"Severus is a rare rose too shy to bloom," said Dumbledore.

"How poetic," said Lindsay cheerily.

"Quite." To Dumbledore, Severus was a beautifully imperfect creature. Try as he might, he just couldn't make the boy understand that love in all its myriad forms was the key to happiness and the true purpose of life. To find it, one must open oneself to another; one must trust deeply and unreservedly. Dumbledore had remarked upon the subject of love quite often over the years, but Severus had never shown any interest whatsoever in the topic. He remained silent and secretive. "You've finally managed to sketch him."

"Yes, I think I'll be able to start painting his portrait now."

"You don't mind if I put the kettle on, do you?"

"Of course not, help yourself. I'll just get tidied up over here."

"You still insist on doing things manually, I see," remarked Dumbledore, who'd opted to use magic to get the tea started.

"It's habit, I guess. I'm tactile, I need to touch things."

"Perhaps a wand might help to curb that tendency. I believe Severus has to run some errands in the morning. I wonder if he wouldn't mind taking you to Ollivander's."

"That would be nice. I love shopping trips. What is our objective for the evening, Professor?"

"Are you familiar with Occlumency?"

###

Lindsay waited by the castle's main entrance. A seventh-year boy sat next to her with his arm draped lazily across her shoulders. She sat cross legged with her hands folded over her knee. The boy was showing her a trick that was clearly intended to impress her, and she was obviously feigning an interest. Snape arrived at precisely nine a.m., just as he'd said. "Mr. Caldwell!" The boy jumped to his feet. "Ten points from Ravenclaw for inappropriate contact with a female. You'll see me this evening for your detention."

"Yes, sir." Caldwell disappeared, with great speed, in the direction of the library.

"Are you ready, Miss Gray?"

"I certainly am."

"We'll be walking to the gates."

"Are we going to Hogsmeade?"

"No." Snape didn't say another word to her until they were on the other side of the castle's gates. "Take my arm."

Lindsay did as instructed and instantly wished she hadn't. She could see nothing, but felt the sensation of rapid movement. She gripped Snape's arm tightly. She felt like her body was being compressed and expanded, like a rubber band being shot across a room. She landed heavily, but stayed on her feet. "That was unpleasant."

"That was apparition," replied Snape. He moved Lindsay to stand in front of a shop window. "Stay here. I won't be long."

Snape disappeared into the bowels of the dark shop. Lindsay peered through the dirty glass of the shop window for a moment. She stepped back and read the sign above it-_"Slug & Jiggers Apothecary". _Lindsay turned around to view the rest of the shops. They all appeared unwelcoming; in fact, the entire street as far as she could see was dark and dreary, not cheerful and sunny like Diagon Alley. Even the patrons that walked the avenue were very shady looking folks, most of whom appeared as though they had great secrets to hide. She had no idea where she was and wasn't the least bit nervous about it. Lindsay loved new places and new faces. As found in most localities, there were people who were poorly dressed; others who were moderately well-dressed; and still others, the least common type, were dressed in expensive fabrics. Lindsay was the only one dressed in Muggle fashion, which drew many a curious stare.

From one of the nearby shops, exited a tall handsome wizard. He was very well-dressed with black trousers, burgundy velvet frock-coat, and a double-breasted, black and silver brocade waistcoat. Lindsay thought he looked like a character out of a cheap romance novel. He had long dark-brown hair that was greying at his temples and wore a neatly trimmed beard. The wizard noticed Lindsay immediately and asked if she was lost.

"No, I'm waiting on a friend."

"With your permission, I'd like to keep you company until she returns."

The wizard moved closer. He was indeed very tall. Lindsay didn't often have to raise her head to look a man in the eyes. "That's very nice of you, but he's just in there. He won't be long."

"He? A gentleman who leaves his lady unattended?"

"She's not interested, Arkaidus."

"Severus! The young lady is with you then?"

Snape didn't answer him. He just pushed him aside, grabbed Lindsay's arm, and shoved her into the shop. He dragged her to the counter and stood her in a corner. "Don't move. Touch nothing. Speak to no one."

Lindsay found Snape's behavior bizarrely amusing and made a mental note to tell Dumbledore about it thinking he'd find it amusing too. Snape stood in front of the sales counter and spoke to an older bespectacled man standing behind it. The older wizard kept shooting glances over at Lindsay. He appeared to be very amused. He casually tilted his head in her direction. "That's quite an expense for a teacher's salary."

Snape's jaw set. He glared malevolently at the older man. Through his teeth he said, "Get it, now!" The older wizard didn't shrink away, but placidly disappeared into the back of the store. He reappeared with a small parcel, which he handed to Snape. A lascivious smile still graced his face. Snape turned from him without a word, grabbed Lindsay again, and shoved her out the door.

"Did that man just call me a hooker?" Snape didn't answer. His cheeks were a little flushed, and Lindsay thought he looked embarrassed. "At least he said I look expensive. I suppose that's a compliment of sorts. Where to now?"

"Ollivander's."

Snape led her to the more familiar and much more cheerful shopping area of Diagon Alley. They entered a quaint old shop that was stacked floor to ceiling with long thin boxes. Something about the place reminded Lindsay of a tobacco shop. They were greeted by an elderly man with large pale eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Snape, I haven't seen you since you were a teenager. A birch wand, somewhat rigid, and made by my associate-I never developed an affinity for birch. The core is dragon heartstring from a Peruvian Vipertooth, fourteen inches; a more dextrous wand than your grandfather's. Cassian Prince was the proud owner of an acacia and dragon heartstring wand, sixteen-and-quarter inches, very unyielding. The core for that wand came from an Hungarian Horntail. The wizard that collected it died from severe burns. A more reserved wand chose your mother; walnut, nine-and-a-quarter inches, unicorn hair—a bit delicate, a near copy of her own mother's wand…."

"It is the young lady who needs your assistance, Mr. Ollivander."

"Oh, yes? And you are?"

"Lindsay Gray, Mr. Ollivander."

"An American? May I ask where you purchased your first wand? I have a very talented colleague in Salem. I admire her work very much."

"This will be my first wand, sir. I'm a late bloomer."

"Latent magic is uncommon. I have only met two whose magic developed late, and both were wizards." Ollivander peered very closely at Lindsay for a few seconds before turning to a stack of boxes. "Let's try a walnut with dragon heartstring." Lindsay took the wand that was offered to her and quickly dropped it. "Very bad core choice for you. Let's try the same with unicorn hair." This wand emitted a very offensive odor. "No, no," mumbled Ollivander. "Here we are. Let's try this, same core, made of pear wood." After twenty minutes, Snape moved to the other side of the room to sit in a chair. Two hours later, he was bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers on the arm-rest. Ollivander was flushed with excitement, and mopped his sweaty brow with an old handkerchief. Open boxes were strewn everywhere.

Judging by Snape's reaction, Lindsay surmised that it wasn't typical to take so long to find an appropriate wand. She was quickly becoming very self-conscious. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander…."

Ollivander put up his hand, "Hush, hush." He tapped his chin with his index finger as he surveyed his mountain of open boxes. "Would it?" he mumbled to himself. He looked over to Lindsay and back at his stack of boxes. He disappeared into the back of his store and returned with a very dusty box. "In the days of my dear father, Gervaise Ollivander, it was common for witches and wizards to bring cores of their choosing to be fitted into wand shafts. The results were often unsatisfactory." He set the box down and gingerly opened it. "The core of this wand is a tuft of ear-hair from a very ancient and beloved house-elf. The wand was intended as a memorial, but it disliked its owner intensely and was returned. As you can see the shaft is heavily carved and ornate. This is some of my father's finest work. The shaft is cedar, very supple; thirteen inches."

"Here goes," said Lindsay as she picked up the wand. A strangely familiar feeling of warmth gently moved through her body. A burst of blue sparks shot from the wand's tip.

Ollivander clapped his hands together in unrestrained merriment. "Yes, yes, that's the one! How remarkable, a very unique wand indeed. And a cedar; I'm always honored to meet a cedar carrier."

"Not to rush you, Mr. Ollivander," said Snape, "but we are in a hurry."

"Oh, yes, that'll be twenty galleons."

Lindsay thanked Mr. Ollivander as Snape shoved her out the door. "We should stop for lunch, Professor."

"We can have lunch at Hogwarts."

"Is that a beauty shop? I need to go in there, Professor."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a girl and I'm vain. I'm hypnotically drawn to pretty colors, pleasant fragrances, and shiny objects."

Snape tried to hold her back, but this time she wasn't cooperating. She disappeared into the shop, leaving Snape waiting outside. He was looking more and more unpleasant by the second. Lindsay was greeted by a petite fair-haired witch with hazel-green eyes.

"Hello," said Lindsay. "I was just wondering if you had any gardenia perfume."

"I do," replied the little witch. She showed Lindsay a row of shelves lined with decorative glass bottles of varying sizes and colors. She picked up a small bottle of gardenia perfume and handed it to Lindsay.

"That's very nice. Oh, it comes in larger bottles? I'll take two."

"Would you like to try the honeysuckle, or perhaps mimosa?"

"Since I'm here, I'll try both. The mimosa's very nice. I'll take a small bottle of it." The witch next handed her a small bottle of honeysuckle perfume. "That is so accurate. Honeysuckle is usually too sweet and strong for me, but this is just like the actual plant. I'll take a bottle of it, and I must leave before I buy up the whole store." They returned to the sales counter and the witch packaged Lindsay's bottles for her. "May I ask what part of France you're from?" said Lindsay.

The witch smiled pleasantly and replied, "Bordeaux."

"I love Bordeaux," proclaimed Lindsay. "I haven't been back in years, but I enyoyed my time there. It's such a beautiful city."

Snape's arms were folded across his chest as he paced in front of the shop. He drummed his fingers on his bicep. He peered through the shop window and wondered what was taking Lindsay so long. The little witch looked beyond Lindsay to the storefront. "I can get someone to clear that wizard away for you."

"Oh, no, we're together."

The witch appeared concerned. "He seems very annoyed."

"I probably shouldn't say this, but just between us girls. He gets a bit, um, _agitated_ when he has to wait, if you know what I mean."

The witch's eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "You are a couple then?"

"Of a sort, I guess you could say. We're not emotionally attached. I think of him more as an instructor." The witch frowned. "Oh, we're not involved in the commercial sense, if you follow me. Well, the truth is I've led a somewhat sheltered life and haven't had time for romance, so he's helping me find my way." The witch leaned a little and looked past Lindsay to get a better look at Snape. A flush of color was rising in her cheeks. Snape saw her inspecting him and scowled. Lindsay turned with her and continued speaking. "You'd never know just by looking at him, but he's remarkably athletic. To be perfectly honest, he exhausts me. I just wish I knew someone who could help take some of the burden from me."

Convinced that they were talking about him, Snape flung open the shop door and stalked up to the sales counter. "What is taking so long?"

"Hi, Professor, we were just talking about the city of Bordeaux. This lovely lady is from there."

Snape scowled more deeply and looked at the little witch with antipathy. She was clearly interested in his company, and her welcoming smile shocked him. His eyes widened as he gazed into hers, and he swallowed hard. His whole body seemed to shrink. He grabbed Lindsay's arm and pulled her away from the counter as he backed away from it. "We're leaving, now…hurry...go!"

Lindsay thought the entire spectacle to be quite amusing. She left the shop with him, but didn't allow him to drag her away. "She likes you, Professor. Go talk to her." Snape didn't reply; he didn't even turn to face her. "You have nothing to be shy about. You're very cute. You're beyond cute, in fact, you're like cuteness cubed." Snape's eyes darted from side to side as if he were afraid someone might overhear her. He grabbed her abruptly, and they disappeared with a tiny pop. They reappeared in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

"I thought we weren't stopping for lunch."

"I changed my mind." He opened the door for her. She'd been here with McGonagall. It was a nice, charming place with friendly service. Snape motioned to an empty table in a dark corner.

"So romantic, Professor."

"Sit!" Snape tucked himself in the corner with his back to the wall. He had a good view of the entire room. His hands were shaking, which made Lindsay smile to herself.

There were two waiters seated at the bar. One was waiting for his customers' orders, the other waited for a new customer to occupy one of his tables. "Look at what just sat at table five."

"Danny, you lucky bastard, you always get the pretty ones," said the second waiter as Danny walked confidently away. Tom snickered behind the bar as he ran a towel over it. "What's so funny?"

"You didn't see who came in with her, did you, Jack?" Jack leaned and saw none other than Professor Snape scowling in the dark corner.

"Oh, I've got to see this."

"What can I get for you today?" said Danny in his most inviting tone.

"After you, you mean?" replied Lindsay with a broad toothy smile.

Danny chuckled, his eyes focused solely on Lindsay. He leaned his elbows on the table next to her. "I've never seen you in here before. You must be new to the area. I'd be happy to show you…."

"Flotsam," said Snape silkily.

Danny stood up quickly, his back rigid. He swallowed hard. The icy voice that haunted his childhood nightmares just sounded in his ears. "Professor Snape, I didn't see you there."

"That's because you didn't look, Flotsam."

"It's Flott, sir, Daniel Flott."

"We'll have the day's special. And don't spit in it, Flotsam. I will know if you do."

Danny practically ran back to the bar. Tom and Jack were laughing so hard that tears streaked their cheeks. "Thank you very much! You could've told me she was with the Greasy Git! Bastards!"

Jack wiped the tears from his eyes. "She must be his niece or something, Tom. There's no way he'd get a date that looked that good."

"Nobody in his family ever looked that good either," replied Tom. "She was in here with Minerva McGonagall. She's stayin' at Hogwarts; a guest of Dumbledore's."

###

"Your behavior was most inappropriate, Miss Gray. No wonder so many of the students follow you about."

"I don't flirt with kids, Professor. They take things too seriously. Most people realize that it's all in fun. It would do you some good to let your hair down once in a while." Snape raised an eyebrow at her and pointed at his long, lank hair. Lindsay laughed aloud. "That witch was very interested in you, Professor. I would've happily waited outside while you talked to her."

"I don't want to talk to her," growled Snape.

"Why not, you're not married, are you?"

"No, I'm not married!"

"Do you prefer men?"

"Of course not!"

"What's the problem then? You have to admit she was attractive and the French accent was fabulous. I love French people."

"I hate the French. They…smell…like croissants."

"That's the best lie you could come up with? And you're Head of Slytherin House?"

"Are you suggesting that Slytherins are liars, Miss Gray?"

"No, I'm stating outright that a cunning Slytherin should be able to come up with a believable lie when he needs to."

"I'm having an off day!"

Lindsay laughed so hard that tears filled her eyes. Snape even allowed himself a small smile. He thought how beautiful she looked as she smiled at him. His gaze was a little too focused and lingered on her a little too long. He let his façade down for only a moment. He realized his mistake and instantly regained his composure, but it was too late. Lindsay had seen the seen the way he looked at her and understood what it meant. She'd seen the lustful way he looked at her before and had no intention of entertaining him, but there was something else in his gaze that she hadn't previously noticed. "I apologize, Professor. I didn't intend to make you so uncomfortable. I promise you that I'll never do it again." He nodded, but said nothing. He did notice, however, that she didn't flirt with the waiter upon his return.

They didn't return to Hogwarts immediately after lunch as Lindsay had expected. Instead, Snape walked her around some of the shops explaining the functions of numerous magical items that she had never seen before. She hooked her arm around his, as was her habit, as they slowly strolled up and down Diagon Alley. Snape stiffened with the unaccustomed contact, but didn't pull away. It was the first time that she'd done that with him. Although he'd seen her take other people's arms, he never expected her to be so familiar with him.

Snape's companion drew the appreciative glances of many wizards as they walked along. She didn't seem to notice them looking her way. She listened to Snape, and occasionally asked a question or two. He'd never known Lindsay to be so quiet. He felt a strange sort of pride as other men gawked at her clutching his arm. An arrogant smirk appeared on his face. His eyes glittered as he picked thoughts from passersby. He knew what to expect from them; he knew what people thought of him. Some were even bold and crass enough to say it to his face, but only when he was a child. Most didn't have the courage to face Severus the man, the fully grown wizard. He was hideously ugly, and he knew it. But right now, he was the one with a beautiful woman happily clinging to his arm.

They disapparated and appeared just outside of Hogsmeade instead of at the castle's gates. Lindsay knew precisely what was going on, but said nothing. She was happy to enjoy the moment. They strolled back to the castle with Lindsay still holding his arm. She was sure that Snape had never walked this slowly in his life. He appeared more nervous now. There were no shops with curious wares that he could explain to her. After some moments of silence, he began pointing out plants to her and telling her their names and magical properties. His posture stiffened, and his tone became icy as they approached the castle.

"Here we are," he said abruptly.

Lindsay released his arm. "I had a nice time today, Professor, and thank you for lunch."

Snape nodded curtly and left for the Headmaster's office.

Lindsay returned to her rooms. She had to admit to herself that she was surprised by Snape's courteous behavior. His leering stares that she'd been politely ignoring suggested that he'd behave very differently in private and at a safe distance from Hogwarts virtually omniscient Headmaster. Much to her shock, Snape was quite gentlemanly in private company. He was old fashioned almost to the point of prudishness. Lindsay was initially quite happy to shove him off onto that very willing little witch until she noticed the change in the way he looked at her. He showed her a genuine attraction untainted with anything untoward, and that deserved to be treated with respect.

###

Dumbledore was standing at a long table covered with variously sized silver mechanisms, all of which were performing academic duties; some were moving, some were lighting up, and some were filled with colored bubbling liquids. The Headmaster was tinkering with a newly acquired instrument when Snape entered and handed him the magazines he'd requested.

"You're much later than expected, Severus."

"The young lady showed interest in some lesser known magical wares. I indulged her curiosity."

"'The young lady,'" repeated Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Hmm, I recall you referring to her as a girl not so very long ago. What was it you said? Ah, yes, 'the girl performs adequately'".

"A turn of phrase, Headmaster," replied Snape firmly.

"If you insist." Dumbledore moved to a cozy pair of chairs with a small table set between them. "Come and sit, Severus. We have important issues to discuss before dinner."


End file.
